


There And Back Again

by baeconandeggs, moon_blinked



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, M/M, Romance, Stardust!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 04:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14968868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_blinked/pseuds/moon_blinked
Summary: The night a star has fallen from the sky will change the life of a young man from Wall forever.





	There And Back Again

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #:** (BAE003)  
>  **Disclaimer: baeconandeggs/the mods is/are not the author/s of this story. Authors will be credited and tagged after reveals.** The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  **Author's Note:** First of all, I thank the BAE mods for their kindness and patience. Thank you to the betas C and Z, most especially to Z who put up with my whining and self-doubt and let me ramble in your DMs and gave me advice when I needed it. For those friends who cheered me on, you know who you are. Thank you for keeping me on my feet and my head on my shoulders. For the dear prompter, I sincerely hope I did my best and the fic is to your liking. Nevertheless, I will always wish I could've done a better job even when the months have been long and precious sleep was sacrificed. To the BAE readers, I hope you like it and if not, well, please be nice to me hehe  <3 Lastly to Neil Gaiman who will probably never see this, thank you for your open support of fanfiction that allowed me to borrow the world you created and make it a ChanBaek one.

> _All that ever lived on earth will soon have their eyes to the heavens..._

The moon watches Earth from her eternal perch in the night sky. As days, weeks, months and years pass, the moon remains the same. She is beautiful as she is gently bright; she guides a-many nightwalkers on their lonely journeys from home and beyond. Along with her numerous sons and daughters who are scattered like tiny pinpricks of light along the endless cloak of darkness, they sing soft lullabies and woo children to their dreams by their bedroom windows.

As the Earth turns and human race change and evolve, the moon continues to gaze; but only she and the stars know there is a realm that stays constant as the world around it advances. 

Unbeknownst to mere mortals there exists Faerie; it is a most perilous land, both in its enchanting dangers and grandiose illusions. What creatures and magic one may find in Faerie cannot exist in the land of men, though some may discover its most adventurous folk live silently in disguise among the common Johns and Jacks. 

What they also fail to realize is Faerie is closer than what they might think. There happens to be an entrance to this mysterious land near the village of Wall, so named after the granite stone wall that runs to the east of the village. This wall stands no taller than three meters, no taller than the tallest man; it emerges from the deep forests and returns to the deep forests. There is an unusual break in the wall as if the beings that created it paused for a day or two and continued on, leaving a six feet wide gap. A seemingly harmless meadow of green grass and tinkling stream that can be seen beyond. Once in a while, strange shapes and shimmering things would appear and vanish before anyone can determine what they are.

The people of Wall are a very simple and conservative bunch. They stick to a routine and never have any cause for merriment or festivities; save perhaps for Mr. Luhan’s inn and pub, the Screeching Toad. They are also quite superstitious, as for the past sixty, maybe hundred years they have posted guards before the opening in the wall. Night and day they stood, carrying long wooden cudgels to shoo away the curious children and forcibly keep a wandering stranger from stepping over the fallen bricks in the gap. 

No knows who built this wall; what the folks at Wall have always known is that no one must cross it, despite the inviting lush green fields of grass and the ripe woods. This has been the rule, as old as the village itself; this is what many fathers have taught their sons, as what Taesuk Park’s father has taught him.

The tale begins here, where a young man like Taesuk Park, his youthful blood boiling for adventure and thirsty for a life more than what the villagers are content with, takes it upon himself to be the first person to walk past the wall and return; there and back again, to tell many stories of the sights he has seen there. 

He decides to approach the wall at nightfall, where he presumes the current guard will most likely be tired from a whole day’s worth keeping post. Taesuk takes his most sturdy coat and marches through and past the village to the wall. The guard stands from his wooden stool, having seen Taesuk walk down the hill on the path that leads to the opening; Taesuk sees him grip his cudgel the instance they come face to face.

“Young Taesuk Park,” The Guard says in a steady voice. He was an old man though still standing tall and straight, almost looking at Taesuk in the eye.

“Good evening,” Taesuk greets. “I’d like to pass through please.”

“Everybody knows no soul gets past this opening,” The Guard grunts, unimpressed. He stares at Taesuk’s willowy figure, thin arms underneath his coat. “It is the rule.”

“I don’t see why it is so,” Taesuk says. “Everybody knows you can only see a meadow past the wall. I just want to take a look around and come back.”

The Guard lowers his cudgel and takes Taesuk by the shoulder. “Taesuk, you have been coming to the wall since you were a lad and begging me for entrance. You are now one and twenty and your father (from what he told me at the pub) would like to see you settled down and not taking any more nightly trips to the wall.”

Taesuk loudly sighs, dropping his wide shoulders from their previous determined stance. “I suppose you are right. I’ll take my leave now.” The Guard walks with him partly up the hill to ensure his departure, but Taesuk is crafty and having lots of practice escaping bullies’ clutches, he ducks the arm on his shoulder, turns and sprints back to the wall, through and past it, the Guard yelling behind him.

He laughs loudly to the night and to the bright moon. It seems larger and more golden from what he has seen walking the cobbled lanes of Wall, but he cares for none of it. His heart is beating in his chest while he keeps running and leaping over the sparkling stream and without thinking he comes a worn out path through the woods and as if guided by starlight, he follows it. 

Taesuk hears loud chatter and clanking and clonking and of music up ahead, the path through the forest opens to another meadow, where there looks to be a flocked market. Baffled that a market is bustling with merchants and buyers in the dead of night, Taesuk slows his pace and gets lost in the excitement. 

The people Beyond the Wall seem ordinary at first sight but they all come in different shapes and sizes, all dressed in finery and Taesuk stares fascinated at a little man, so hairy he was yet dressed in a coat and trousers. There were stalls everywhere selling odd bits and ends, merchants hollering their wares; different sorts of wonders and miracles and Taesuk thinks that you just might find whatever your heart can desire. 

There was a faint chiming in the air, distinct and clear amidst the clamor and he trails this curiously.

He sees moving eyes of different colors; bottled dreams, songs, and sounds; exotic rugs, carpets and cloaks of midnight and twilight for three shillings; wands, swords, bows and arrows that never miss; singing rocks and stones; potions and salves that can cure any wound or broken bones. Taesuk wishes he has multiple eyes, ears, and bodies to be able to explore every inch of this intriguing market.

He passes what he confirms is making the lively music; a cheerful band of foxes holding tambourines, violins and windpipes, conducted by a lady in a bright vermillion dress and hair just as red. There was a man juggling jars that emitted different colored smoke and another man weaving cloth on a loom that had images that moved and shifted. 

The soft tinkling is closer now and he comes upon a stall where he assumes it originated from. No loud merchant supervises the overflowing myriad of spring flowers; from honeysuckles, primroses, to deep bluebells and sweet smelling dog roses, daffodils, violets, the tiny snowdrops and other flowers Taesuk’s mother would be more knowledgeable to name. The flowers, he closely observes, are made of glass, so delicately formed they imitated living blossoms perfectly. The chiming comes from the flowers, a gentle humming most pleasant to the ears.

“Anyone around here?” Taesuk asks to no one.

“Good evening to you mister,” says a voice and Taesuk belatedly notices the yellow caravan parked nearby and from it emerges a young woman. She beams radiantly at him. She must be one of the strange folk from Beyond the Wall, something about her dark, curling, ebony hair and deep violet eyes; her ears, which peeked from under her long tresses stuck out and pointed at the tip, similar to those elves, nymphs, and pixies he read in storybooks as a little boy. She was very lovely.

“W-what purpose do these pretty flowers serve?” Taesuk asks.

“They can be given as tokens of affections, gifts of appreciation and home decoration. They make the most pleasing sound and reflect light delightfully.” The fay girl picks up a bluebell, the sound it makes is similar to a wet finger circling the mouth of a wine glass. Taesuk notices the deep shade of the flower is inferior to the shade of her eyes. “They can also have spells and charms if that is what the good sir is after?”

Taesuk shakes his head and the fay girl smiles. “And what does the good sir fancy?” 

“I don’t fancy—um,” Taesuk gulps and she smiles most divine, straight white teeth and rosy lips, but then he notices another oddness to the already otherworldly young woman. “You are in chains.”

A long silver chain so fine is wrapped around her thin wrists and it trails down to her ankles, behind the stall, and into the caravan. “I’m a slave to a witch who captured me many years ago in my father’s land. I’m bound to serve her whims unless she meets her unfortunate end, of which I know in my heart will come to pass soon. For now, I must sell these flowers. Will you buy one from me, mister?” She asks, eyes wide.

“My name is Taesuk.” He offers.

“A noble name I see.” She teases. “For it means great like a rock. Are you so great like your name?” Taesuk’s eyes follow the form of her body in her silken dress, soft slopes and curves.

He blushes. “You haven’t told me your name.”

“As a slave, I have no name. I answer to ‘stupid bitch’ or ‘lazy whore’.” She picks up a snowdrop in the bunch. “This one here will give you good luck.”

“And how much shall I offer to have it?” Taesuk reaches into his pockets, certain he has brought a few pence and shilling. He will most definitely purchase this snowdrop and maybe give it to his…to his mother! He will purchase this and leave and stop being a blubbering idiot in front of a pretty lady.

“Maybe your memories, the light in your eyes, the feeling from your fingertips.” The fay girl cocks her head. “Or a kiss.”

“Then I shall pay honestly.” Taesuk leans across the stall to lightly brush his lips on hers, over the chiming flowers, her intoxicating scent envelops him. His mind was a haze, filled with the beautiful girl, her eyes and her smile.

“There,” She places the snowdrop in his coat pocket and gives him another blinding smile. “My mistress goes to bed in a few hours, Taesuk Park. If you’d like, wait for me by the glade in the forest behind a tall man in a top hat’s food stall; there you and I must meet.”

“What business do you want of me?” Taesuk stares into her eyes, wondering how she knew his name if he hadn’t supplied it. 

She flashes a coy smile and leaning over the stall once more to brush their lips together she whispers. “I will give you your heart’s desire.”

And so Taesuk waits for her in the glade which was deceivingly a distance away from the food stall she indicated. They meet when dawn was nearing, her dress softly brushing the tips of grass as she walks, the chain upon her ankles moving as she went, extending as far as she can go but will never release her. Taesuk has never seen a woman more beautiful in her strength and will despite her bonds, and under the moon and stars, they come together, a flurry of bodies, gasps of breath and stolen kisses. Taesuk lost his heart to a woman whose name he never knew and after that fateful night, he was back in Wall, in the farmhouse he lives in on his father’s farm. He then decides some adventures weren’t meant to be shared after all.

Seasons pass, and summer became autumn and autumn became winter. The realm of Faerie still stands, so does the wall that divides it from the citizens of Wall. The snow was falling lightly that evening, the wind biting through the thick skin of the Guard’s coat. The hill before him was blanketed in white, the trees leafless, tall and dark like fingers reaching out into the sky. He never notices the wicker basket that was left by a small hand as he continues to guard, not until there was a loud cry did he look down at his feet.

Inside the basket was a little bundle of blankets, swaddled warmly in thick wool was a tiny infant, miserable and no doubt cold and hungry. There was only a note attached and on it, written in an elegant script was the name:

_Chanyeol Park_

~

Nineteen years the Wall has seen and the babe left inside a basket through the wall became a young man.

Chanyeol lives with his father Taesuk in their farmhouse, helping tend to their animals and till their land, unknowing of his heritage. Sometimes his father, an older and broader man now since his adventures past the wall, would stare at him with a lost and pained look in his eyes as if he was remembering a distant dream. Chanyeol never understood the full reason but he presumes it must be because he reminds Taesuk of his late mother, whom his father had said disappeared into thin air and he never saw her again. Of course, Chanyeol thinks this is all hogwash but he never questions it.

Whatever Taesuk sees in Chanyeol of his mother must be most unremarkable, as Chanyeol himself was never the most remarkable young man in all of Wall. He inherited his father’s tall stature, standing over a foot higher than anyone he meets; but he was gangly and had no muscle, all awkward long limbs he has no graceful control over; eyes and mouth too big for his face, hair that can never be combed into a decent style and his blasted ears he’s always being made fun of. They weren’t large or deformed but oddly sticking out to the side of his head and slightly pointed at the tip, like an ugly imp; a big, ugly imp.

His ears weren’t the only things he was made fun of. Often he would say the oddest of things, such as how some stray cats seem to be staring at him and stalking him when he walks to school as a young lad or when he swore he saw a little man get lost in the crowd at the village market, seeing the likenesses of strange monsters through the forests and how he thinks some of their barnyard cows can understand him. But Chanyeol persevered despite the daily persecution of his classmates and peers, focusing on his studies and taking an interest in learning about latitude and longitude; stories and poems and songs he knows by heart.

Like any other young man Chanyeol’s age comes the temptations of the flesh and the desires of the heart; he was fifteen when he first learned of sex from dirty jokes and filthy ballads sung at the pub and the joys that come with it. It was then how he noticed the fairness of Krystal Jung’s skin, the rich amber of her eyes and the soft waves of her dark hair around her heart-shaped face; her tantalizing red lips and the pretty blush on her cheeks.

Although beautiful Krystal, of whom Chanyeol could find no fault or flaw, didn’t have as much regard her tall admirer has for her, and Chanyeol, too kind for his own good, is none the wiser. Often offering her his praise, flowers from his father’s garden, reliable arms to carry her noonday’s shopping; a knight with no shining armor but with a shining honesty, his heart written as clear as day on his sleeves. Yet his lady love could only reciprocate with a smile that to a stranger’s vision would seem forced and in her eyes that see nothing but a common farm-boy.

And Chanyeol is aware he doesn’t meet the expectations of a proper suitor. For a lady as sweet as his Krystal, she only deserves the finest the world can offer. He knows this for he is vastly incomparable to other suitors who go to the city to study more advanced maths and more poems and songs than Chanyeol could ever learn, who travelled great miles and experienced the sophistication of the suburban life, who could afford to give fancy bouquets and expensive chocolates, and present a dowry her mother and father cannot refuse; assuring Krystal a future and a place in society.

But if his love is true and great, he believes that in time he will find the means to become a man Krystal wouldn’t be ashamed to be walking alongside with. He vows to work hard until he breaks, until Krystal could gaze at him like he is the moon and the stars, for she is his sun.

~

Tonight Chanyeol, wearing his best shirt and coat and with his father’s garden flowers and his blessing, set out into the night to sing under Krystal’s bedroom window and give her his flowers, and if luck is with him perhaps he will return to his bed with a kiss on his lips and a smile on his face.

Krystal’s house is located near the centre of the village while Chanyeol’s was at the edge near the forests in the west, so it was quite a walk but the night is cool and the evening star is bright in the sky and the moon a jolly crescent guiding his way but on his long legs he arrives not a moment later and as he looks up he sees that her bedroom window shone with light. Chanyeol looks for a tiny pebble on the ground before throwing surely against the glass of her window.

He distantly hears a few hushed giggles before the glass pane swung open and Krystal’s pale face looks out into the night, a radiant smile on her exquisite lips. Chanyeol quickly adjusts his clothes and grips the flowers in his fists.

“Kai is that you-oh” Krystal’s smile fades from her lips into a grimace as she stares down at Chanyeol in her nightgown. “It’s just you Chanyeol.” She frowns and is about to reach and close her window until she lets out a sigh. “Did I forget to leave last week’s payment at the shop?”

“No! No…” It is Chanyeol’s turn to smile, a wavering curve of his mouth, his dimple showing. “I just…wanted to see you, and maybe sing for you a few ballads and give you these flowers.”

Krystal replies. “That’s sweet but listen Chanyeol, it’s late and my mother will scold me if I stay awake too long.”

“Then let me just give these flowers and—” He starts to say until a stiff stick hit him lightly on the chest, so he drops his flowers in a yelp and jumps back.

It was merely Jongin Kim and his gentleman’s cane with a silver gilded knob, an arrogant young man who used to be a classmate of Chanyeol at school and his rival for Krystal’s affection. Except he was probably more put together than Chanyeol is, with his new shining coat and top hat, elegant windswept locks over his handsome face. He stood confidently whereas Chanyeol slouched. The flowers Jongin carried was obviously bought at a fancy boutique shop and not plucked from the earth like his.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Jongin says, not sorry at all. “I wasn’t aware I’m not the only one to woo under Krystal’s window tonight.”

He does not know why he did but he reckons so he can redeem himself in front of Krystal, Chanyeol takes a long stick he spies under the bushes in front of the house and holds it up like a sword, challenging Jongin into a mock duel. Naturally, Jongin the more adept and the more physically able, rolls his eyes and taps Chanyeol’s makeshift sword away and gives him a hard shove to the ground, crushing the flowers Chanyeol picked under his boots.

“Why don’t we leave the fencing skills to me and you focus on shop-keeping and farming, Chanyeol Park?” Jongin points his cane at him before tucking it under his arm and making his way to Krystal’s door. Chanyeol, humiliated, stands up from his sorry state and brushes the dirt off his sleeves.

“Are you hurt, Chanyeol?” He hears Krystal call out.

“I’m all right, I guess.” Chanyeol shrugs, defeated and places his empty hands in his trouser pockets. What he thought to be a night of hope became a sham. “I’ll just—I’ll just leave now…good night, Krystal.”

“Good night, Chanyeol. Take care on your way home.”

But Chanyeol did not immediately set out for home. He decides that to ease his smarting ego, he will have to drink a pint at the Screeching Toad. The pub and inn is not swamped as it was on the weekends. There were only a few of the regular patrons under its warm roof, singing a drunken song whilst they swing their tankards. He makes way to the counter where Mr. Luhan the owner is wiping bowls dry.

“Whatever are you doing so late out at night, Chanyeol Park?” Mr. Luhan asks, setting aside the cloth he was using to look inquisitively at him. 

“I went to sing under Krystal’s window, except I wasn’t the only suitor that arrived and certainly not the most wanted either.” Chanyeol sighs. “Jongin was there and…well, I made a fool of myself.”

Mr. Luhan nods, understanding; aware as he knows the impudent character of Jongin and Chanyeol’s forgiving nature. 

Mr. Luhan, despite being the owner of the most famous pub and inn in Wall, was a delicate-looking man. His skin pale and his hair a soft, curly brown and eyes the color of the sky before the rain falls. Both men and women would stare at him but he would never stare back, and as for what Chanyeol’s father told him, Mr. Luhan looked exactly the same as he was now when Taesuk was younger. He came to Wall some time ago and there he stayed where he thrived on his profession.

A pint slid across the wooden counter and bumps into Chanyeol’s arm; he takes a sip and his tongue is met with the comforting and warm taste of ale. 

“Chanyeol, I’ve told you this many times. There are other girls and boys more worthy of your kind heart than Krystal Jung,” Mr. Luhan tells him. “She has always seen you as a futureless farm-boy and shopkeeper.”

“She does not!” Chanyeol chugs a mouthful and wipes his lips on his forearm. “If she really did, why does she always ask me to walk her home every time she comes to the shop?”

“Because she wants you to carry her stuff,” Mr. Luhan mutters. “A pretty face can only go so far.”

“Krystal is not just a pretty face. She’s the most beautiful girl for a hundred leagues and beyond; she has the purest of hearts and her words are always full of wisdom!”

Mr. Luhan doesn’t say anything further after that, only sharing Chanyeol’s time as he nurses the events of tonight away from his memory, clearly too blind by love to see its flaws. But when Chanyeol finishes two more pints and sluggishly threw some shilling as payment did he say. “In time Chanyeol, you will find the true desire of your heart.”

~

It was a bright weekday when Chanyeol wakes but his headache makes him squint his eyes at the sunlight through his bedroom window, but he realizes the sun the was set too high in the sky for it to be early and scrambles out of bed and changes into a clean set of clothes before rushing down the stairs. 

His father Taesuk is already sat at the dining table near the small kitchen, reading the morning’s paper. Pieces of toast bread and cheese, a bowl of stew and some boiled eggs were laid out for breakfast. “Morning, Chanyeol.”

“Good morning father.” Chanyeol grabs some toast and cheese before bounding to the door and grabbing his coat.

“You’re already late.”

“I know,” Chanyeol says and jogs out of the door before his father could ask how badly last night went but given that he arrived home intoxicated must have been telling.

On certain days of the week, if Chanyeol is not helping his father at the farm, he works at the village shop, Monday and Brown’s, where they keep in stock all sorts of non-perishable necessities such as pots, pans and different cutlery; candles and floors wax; paper and ink, and varying foods and condiments you won’t be able to find in the village market. He is in charge of greeting customers and searching for the items that is indicated on the lists written in cheap ink on stained paper. 

Sometimes it is fulfilling, speaking with the village folk who here nice to him, eagerly listening to their stories of home and their families, the news and gossip they could bring of which Chanyeol could only awkwardly chuckle. He was never the type to speak so controversially about others, but there are the people who whisper about him, handing their lists with unsure expressions as if Chanyeol would suddenly sprout wings on his shoulder blades and fly, hushes of “halfling” and “faeborn”, staring at his large eyes and ears.

But the bright sun that woke Chanyeol up this morning turn into dull grey clouds, the air is cold and stale but it never did rain on this busy day at work, so Chanyeol received more lists of the people in line from noon until dusk when Krystal Jung entered the shop, all beautiful in her soft yellow dress, dark tresses tied in delicate twists. She carries a piece if crumpled paper in her dainty hands, then unminding of the long line of shoppers, heads straight to the front where Chanyeol stood, smiling sweetly at him.

“Hello, Chanyeol.” She greets and hands a dumbfounded Chanyeol the list she was carrying. “I’d like everything on that list please.” Krystal only beams importantly at the irritated villagers and looks expectantly at Chanyeol. “And make it quick.”

“Yes! Yes…hold on.” Blushing, he checks her list, it was briefly consisting of: a bag of sugar, a bag of rice, a bag of salt, a can of raisins and a bottle of vanilla extract. Chanyeol’s mind turns for anything to start a conversation with and he hears his voice say. “I guess you’ll be making some rice pudding.” and it must’ve been the wrong thing to say for Krystal could barely stop from pursing her perfect lips.

“Yes Chanyeol. Mother says rice pudding is good for the chilly weather.” She smiles once again, a tortured look in her eyes, her voice in clipped tones. “Please Chanyeol, I’m in a hurry today.” Chanyeol ignores the outraged expression on Mr. Brown’s eyes as he hurries to put the listed things in a sack bag and tying it secure. Krystal places her payment on the counter and stares prettily at him. “Walk me home? You carry the sack, of course.” 

He nods and aware he has officially been fired from Monday and Brown’s, he lifts the bag on his arm and leaves the shop with Krystal. The dusk became night and the street lamps were being lit by the village lamplighter as they walked. It was not really the end of spring nor the beginning of autumn, but the chill was already crisp and if not for the shawl wrapped around Krystal’s shoulders, he would’ve offered his coat when a wind blew from the land of Faerie and Chanyeol felt a sudden surge of courage so he says.

“Krystal.”

“Yes, Chanyeol.” says Krystal, who had been silent majority of the walk.

“If I kiss you would that be too forward?”

“Yes, it would be.” She answers bluntly. “Did you see that?”

“I didn’t,” They arrive in the street that leads to Krystal’s house. “I was only looking at you. What did you see?”

“There was a shooting star. I suppose I should make a wish.” She smiles under the faint glow of the street lamp.

“I wish you would kiss me. Won’t you kiss me, Krystal?” says Chanyeol.

“No, Chanyeol.” They stop at Krystal’s front door and Chanyeol places the heavy bag on the steps leading inside.

“If not kiss me, then will you marry me?” There was silence in the night then a most delightful sound fills it; the most beautiful girl for a hundred leagues is laughing in amusement.

“Marry you?” Krystal giggles. “If I marry you, Chanyeol Park, what could you give me?”

“For you, I’d go to India and bring back huge rubies and pearls. I’d go to Africa to bring back a diamond; I’d find the source of the Nile and give it your name. Rob a pirate king for jade and silk, go to Australia beneath the world and give you a…a koala!” Chanyeol is fairly sure about koalas.

Krystal could only smile apologetically. “You are funny, Chanyeol, but I still won’t kiss you nor will I marry you, dear little shop-boy…I must go inside now.”

“Please,” He gently grabs her hand. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do; no place that I wouldn’t go for you.” With his long arms he gestures to the whole of Wall, to the night sky and beyond.

“Chanyeol, Jongin is already planning to propose to me on my birthday next week.” 

“Then,” In the horizon, he sees a star flash and fall on the other side of the wall that separates them from Faerie, its glittering tail ablaze behind it. “For a kiss and your hand, I will cross the wall and get you that fallen star.”

Krystal eyes him as if he’s gone insane. “You can’t cross the wall, Chanyeol. Nobody does.”

“To prove my love, I will do it.” He hopes she can see the determination in his eyes, he knows it is all a crazy idea but he has got nothing to lose, except Krystal to Jongin. 

“All right then,” says Krystal.

“What?”

“If you get me that star by next week, you can ask for anything of me.” She clarifies.

“Um...what?”

Krystal Jung graces him with another tinkling laughter and removes her hand from his. “Do you mean it?” Chanyeol asks, blocking Krystal’s way when she began to head for her front door.

“I mean it as much as you mean your promises of the Nile and of koalas.” She replies, smiling.

“Do you swear?”

“Yes,” says Krystal and Chanyeol takes her hand back in his and gives it a soft kiss.

“Farewell, my lady.” Chanyeol grandly steps back to allow her entrance to her home. “When we meet again, the star will be yours.” He bows low and sets off into the night, her peals of laughter follow him.

~

The forest was silent on that night, unassuming nocturnal creatures skitter about; a horned owl stalks a field mouse as it searches for a nut. The wind lighter, more peaceful here than in the mountains, blowing light ripples in a tiny spring, its waters cascading from smooth rocks laden with moss and reeds, fireflies dancing amongst the sleeping wildflowers.

For a time, only moonlight shone through the canopy of rustling tree leaves, then appeared a bright ball of light from the distance, no bigger than the moon herself, a blinding white orb that grew bigger and hotter and closer to that little corner of the forest. The owl forgets his mouse and flies away far to the other side of the forests and the much smaller land animals flee, sensing the danger. The trees and the ground tremble and a loud, ear-splitting noise rumbled as the blaze of light seemed like the sun to the fireflies, shining like they’ve never been. There was a crack like lighting that hit the tallest beech tree and a crash that explodes into fire and burn everything around it. A yawning crater is formed, of ash and burning wood. The light that landed in the centre faded from a blaze to a glow, pulsing like a beating heart.

And then there came a low groan. “Ow” it says, the last letter extends long into a loud “Fuck!” More curses and words unacceptable both here and heaven beyond were uttered. A while later, there was a muffled sob then there is silence once again in the forest.

~

Swift feet fly across a dirt road, as Chanyeol runs his way home. Twigs snap at the bottom of his shoes, dust scuffed on his trousers. He was breathless when he pushes the door he left that morning. His father was sat by the hearth of the kitchen, gazing at the flames, lost in thought, but once he hears Chanyeol, he stands from his perch, eyes alert. A tall man his father, brown hair like his with few silver strands woven at his temples and brown eyes, cheeks red from the warmth.

“Chanyeol?” asked Taesuk. “What were you running home for?”

“I’m sorry, father.” apologises Chanyeol. “But I won’t be staying home tonight. I’m leaving, as soon as I can and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

Taesuk says nothing, nothing as he stares into his son’s eyes, recognizing a glint of determination, a fire he knew will soon come ever since he received the basket nineteen years ago. He beckons Chanyeol to the dining table and they sit, Taesuk at the head and Chanyeol to his right.

“Where will you be going?” He asks.

“East.” answers Chanyeol.

“East,” his father echoes. Taesuk knows which East his son meant and it’s not towards the next town. He means over the wall and into Faerie. “And are you coming back?”

Chanyeol smiles, thinking his father worries that he’s leaving for good. “Of course.”

“Well,” Taesuk rises, giving a firm pat to Chanyeol’s back. “I suppose I can’t stop you from going.” He sighs a sigh like it came all the way from his toes, a long drawn out sigh that waited nineteen years in anticipation, of acceptance. “How are you going through the wall?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll find a way,” Chanyeol stands too, almost eye in eye to his father. “Maybe I can fight my way through.”

“I’m afraid you neither have the skill nor cunning to be able to fight that guard,” Taesuk chuckles. “You’re too kind, my boy. Kinder than I could have ever expected.” 

“Well then, what must I do to go past?” asks Chanyeol. He knows his shortcomings, no strength and abilities to be well-equipped for a long journey, he only hopes his dumb will to be enough.

“Go pack your bag and pack lightly.” Taesuk orders. “I will accompany you to the village and to the wall.”

So Chanyeol locates his old rucksack and inside he places some dark rye bread and cheese along with five ripe apples. He also brings a flask filled with warm wine and a small knife. Then he and his father walk into the village, through the wooden lands bordering east of the village and down the path on a hill to the wall. 

Chanyeol had wondered, of course, why his father decided to accompany him. Maybe together they could overpower the Guard or maybe his father would create a distraction so he can quietly slip across. All the possibilities and strategies, except the one his father had in mind.

“Good evening, Taesuk.” greets the Guard. “What made you decide to come to my post again after nineteen years?” He still carries the wooden cudgel and remains as old yet as forbidding since Taesuk has seen him.

“You know of my son, Chanyeol?” The Guard grunts as Chanyeol steps forward.

“Charming young lad, almost as tall you are Taesuk.” He huffs and Chanyeol hopes they will quickly finish whatever idle discussion they’re planning on having.

“And you, more than all the villagers in Wall, should know where he came from?”

The faraway sound of crickets replace the silence of the Guard at Taesuk’s question and Chanyeol doesn’t understand the look the two older men share.

“It’s time that he goes back,” Taesuk says and he ignores the curious glance Chanyeol shoots his way.

The Guard speaks nothing for a beat of a moment and Chanyeol is afraid that they really will have to fight his way through until he consents with a. “This is a rare moment that happens only every hundred years when a Guard will peacefully let a man through.” He observes Chanyeol with beady eyes under his grey, bushy eyebrows. At the glint in his eyes, the shape of his ears. 

“A star fell, you see, so…” Chanyeol starts to explain but his father raises a hand and he closes his mouth. 

“Very well,” And the Guard quietly steps aside and the gap through the wall is clear.

Chanyeol feels his heart about to escape his chest, out of nervousness, out of excitement, out of bewilderment, but his father presses something solid in his hand and whispers in a voice only he can hear.

“Go on, now Chanyeol, and good luck!”

He tugs his rucksack tighter around his shoulders and unbelieving, Chanyeol steps over the fallen bricks and pebbles between the wall and into the lush meadow on the other side. Chancing a fleeting look at his father and the Guard who frame the gap, watching him go, he wonders why he was so easily let through.  
Something in his hand chimes and he opens his palm to find a glass snowdrop so realistic it still had the morning’s dew on it.

Chanyeol trudges across the meadow he used to only catch a glimpse of back in Wall and it was like any other meadow, the breeze that touches his cheeks was like any other breeze, but was oddly warm and smelling rich of pine and something sweet he couldn’t identify. He also observes the moon was brighter here, casting a faint shadow on the grass of his skinny physique. When Chanyeol tilts his head up, to his surprise, the moon is full and larger than what he remembered to be a crescent back home, so yellow it nearly out-glowed the sparkle of the innumerable stars.

Then, with the excitement of his deal with Krystal and the curious way his father didn’t question his desire to go past the wall and the Guard’s consent to let him through finally fading from his bloodstream, the enormity of Chanyeol’s promise makes him stop in his steps and regard the Faerie woods cautiously. He has no clue how to find the star and how to survive alone and emerge unscathed in the wilderness and unfamiliar lands. He doesn’t even how the folks (if he should meet any) Beyond the Wall spoke and how they acted and how to respectfully stay out of their business. He is only across a mere wall and yet the sight of his village’s lights seem worlds away. Chanyeol could walk back and everyone would understand, perhaps even Krystal Jung, who would just giggle and say he’s funny. But he remembers her red lips and her laughter and Chanyeol inhales deeply and proceeds into the woods with what bravery he can muster.

There is a dirt path through the trees and Chanyeol follows it for a time, the bright moon on her heavenly perch casts a golden glow upon the hedge that he walks along, and soon the evening breeze makes him drowsy. He tries to keep his eyes open for a hundred feet or so then fatigue weighing his body down, Chanyeol looks for an underbrush he can spend the night in without being seen, removing his coat and uses it as a makeshift blanket and his rucksack a pillow.

Chanyeol watches the stars as he let himself fall asleep. He hears them whisper soft voices and lullabies in his ear, sees them shift and dance and he realizes he must be dreaming. They suddenly take human form, fair faces mischievous but kind as they stare down at the measly human world below them; watching men suffer and enjoy, persevere and fall, and to them this is all just amusing, tiny people and their quaint lives. The stars insinuated a request for him to sing for they have heard him before and Chanyeol at a loss, glances at the gleaming moon and he utters a ballad he has heard once sung in drunken circles at the Screeching Toad.

_“The young may moon is beaming, love._  
_And the glow-worm’s lamp is gleaming, love.”_

He continues to sing the first verse, a bit delirious for he is asleep and unsure whether the words are correct.

_“And I whose star more glorious far,_  
_Is the eye from that casement peeping, love!”_

“’Scuse me,” a gruff yet polite voice mutters alongside the melodious chitter of the stars. “D’you mind dreamin’ quietly? I’ve no desire listenin’ about this stars and moons and loves when I’m tryin’ to get a shut-eye.”

“Wha-?” huffs Chanyeol.

“Quietly now if it’s all right.” answers the gruff voice.

Chanyeol turns and hugs his coat tighter. “M’sorry,” and he falls back into deep slumber, the stars disappearing and he dreams of nothing.

~

A sound of something sizzling and frying meat wakes Chanyeol the next morning, his back aching of the bare earth he made his bed with. Once the sleep fades from his eyes, he sees a tiny hairy man with a large top hat and a flappy coat of bright green heating his food in a pan with a long handle over a fire, between his lips is a wooden pipe emitting puffs of smoke.

“Hope you like bacon and some mushrooms fried in garlic and butter.” The tiny man says, poking the cooking food. “Field picked mushrooms and nothin’ of the fancy sort you get in cans.” He offers a flat plate to Chanyeol. “But I like me some nice cooked mushrooms.”

Chanyeol doesn’t say anything and looks at the meal his companion gave him. He’s grateful but something that the old men and women, and grandparents teach their grandchildren at Wall return to him. “We’re told it’s not right to eat or drink food from Faerie if we want to come back home.”

“And your folks are right to warn,” The tiny man agrees. “But magic like that got no power on someone who’s from here anyways, so eatin’ that is fine.”

He doesn’t understand, but Chanyeol is hungry and the bacon smells delicious, and the tiny man didn’t seem to be lying and so he picks a fat, greasy mushroom and takes a tiny bite and it was the juiciest and tastiest mushroom he has had; it tasted of garlic butter and of bacon fat that it was fried with. Chanyeol said so to his companion.

“Ah but how nice manners to have for some plain fried mushrooms,” says the little man, the smoke from his pipe mixes with the smoke from the flames. After they were done, Chanyeol helps put out their fire and wash the plates used before the hairy man hangs them over the flaps of his pack.

“I’m Chanyeol Park.” He introduces himself to the little man who removes his hat from his hairy head and bows grandly.

“Charmed,” he looks up at Chanyeol, tiny black eyes under bushy eyebrows and a big nose. “Sometimes I’m enchanted or honored or my pleasure! But it’s never the same twice.”

So they walk together, the tiny man surprisingly kept up with the strides of Chanyeol’s long legs, sometimes Chanyeol finds him a few paces ahead as if one step equaled five and he could outwalk Chanyeol if he wishes. Chanyeol has removed his coat and shoved it in his rucksack, the air is warm of springtime and the autumn chill in Wall seem a distant memory. They stop for lunch by a brook and this time Chanyeol offers his loaf of rye bread and cheese. The tiny man was wary at first but soon gobbled up his share and once again takes his pipe from his coat and proceeds to smoke. They lounge, waiting for the sun to descend from its highest and hottest peak, the brook provides them coolness as they rest.

“Say, laddie, what business do you have this side of the border?” 

Chanyeol straightens his back, eager for the first time since he woke up. “There’s this girl who lives in my village. Her name is Krystal Jung and her beauty and grace has no other equal, and to her, I have entrusted my —”

“Yes, yes.” The hairy figure impatiently waves his pipe. “It figures a lad like yourself would foolishly cross the wall for a pretty face since those who cross the wall from your land are either scholars or the mad. And pardon me for sayin’ this but it’s true—you look as plain as breadcrumbs; neither smart lookin’ nor mad lookin’. That’s good in my opinion.”

“What do you mean?” Chanyeol stands, a bit offended. “Are you implying that my Krystal would make me go on a fool’s errand?”

The little man pauses and says. “Yes.” He puffs a huge cloud of smoke and Chanyeol coughs, irritated but couldn’t fault him for his honesty. “So this young lady…has sent you to seek your fortune for her dowry? That’s quite popular, isn’t it? The stuff of fairy tales.”

“No…Yes…something like it. A promise.” Chanyeol sits back down. “I was walking her home and there was a star and it fell over there.” He points in the general direction to a faraway mountain range. “I promised I would get it for her.”

His hairy companion hums and toys with his grizzly beard. “You know what I would do?”

“I don’t.” Chanyeol turns to the peculiar little man, hairy head, and body, and he thinks with hope. “What would you do?”

“I will tell her to go to blazes and set out to find another girl who’ll be happy with just myself and the clothes I wear and not ask to go all way to a different realm for a bloomin’ star!”

Chanyeol shakes his head. “There is no other for me. My heart is set and my soul has decided on her.”

The little man only sniffs and they begin walking once again, following the setting sun through the forest.

“Were you tellin’ the truth?” says the little hairy man. “The fallen star?”

“I speak no lie,” admits Chanyeol.

The little man glances about him, and mutters in a low voice as if the birds and trees could hear, and a cold wind blows through their coats. “Well, I’d take care not to mention it if I were you. There’re unfriendly beins’ about who would do more harm than good for information like that. Best keep silent but don’t lie.”

“But what should I say if they ask me?”

“If they ask you where you from, you say ‘Behind me.’, and if they ask where you off to, you say “In front of me.”

“Oh,” says Chanyeol, it was an odd way to answer but it made sense.

They continue to walk, the gaps between the trees get closer and the path more difficult to distinguish in the growing dark. A chilly draft ruffles their hair and clangs the pots on the little man’s pack. Soon, they were in the middle of a dense growth of tall, grey birch trees.

“Do you feel cold, lad?” asks his companion, and he ominously adds “These woods are unfamiliar to me and I’ve traveled these parts before.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m quite shivering.” Chanyeol rubs his arms. The little man stops in his tracks and Chanyeol stops with him.

“Take a look around. Can you find the path?” The little man’s eyes search his surroundings, his words rushed and distracted and nervous.

Chanyeol blinks his eyes, the grey wood is so thick it ate up the light of dusk and the direction he thought he had. The trees look similar and there used to be a path that they followed but when he blinks the path blurs and disappears, once there but not there, like an illusion. There is only grey forest and the rapid breaths of his companion.

“I say we should run,” suggests Chanyeol. “Through the trees at the edge of the wood.”

“There’s no runnin’ out of this. We’re in a trap.” The little man walks to the nearest tree and cautiously gave it a strong kick in the trunk. The tree shook, its leaves rustle and something falls to the ground with a dull sound that resembled a bundle of hay being thrown.

They approach the thing and gooseflesh rises on Chanyeol’s forearms. It was a large bird, or used to be large bird except its flesh and feathers were clean off the bone, white and dry.

“No use in runnin’, no use in flyin’ either if this chap didn’t make it.” The little man shivers. “No use in burrowin’ the ground.”

“We should find some sticks and stones to arm ourselves,” says Chanyeol.

“Why would we arm ourselves?”

“Before whatever killed that bird comes for us.” 

“Before they--? Why—they’re here, my lad. They’ve already caught us. It’s the trees! We’re in a serewood.”

“A serewood?” Chanyeol asks and regards the motionless trees, although they seem closer now than they did moments ago.

“It’s my fault,” The little man says mournfully. “I should’ve been paying attention to the path and now one day a poor bloke will find our skeletons picked clean before his turn befalls him.”

Chanyeol isn’t sure if he should believe the little man’s imaginings or if the trees are crowding around them though he saw nothing out of the ordinary move. Then something stings his hand and he slaps it away, thinking a mosquito has bitten him, but a tiny pale yellow leaf fell to the grass and on his hand, a small piece of his skin was sliced off, bloodied and throbbing, in the same shape.

“Can’t we escape this?” Chanyeol presses another palm to his wound to dull the pain.

“Nothing more, except find the path. The serewood can only hide it and lure us off it, but the path remains.” 

Chanyeol blinks and says. “I…I know where the path is.” He points. “It’s by those rocks and bushes and over.”

His companion stares at him with glimmering black eyes. “How are you sure?”

“I just know.”

The little man huffs. “All right then. Come on!” He shoulders his burden and ran, Chanyeol scrambling to keep up, still baffled how such short legs can cover great distances.

“Wait! It’s not that way! By the bushes. To the left!” yells Chanyeol. Thorns and brambles rip at his clothes, and more stinging leaves start to cascade from the branches, slicing and cutting at his arms. They ran in silent haste.

The trees get closer to each other like a barricade, their low branches seem to be reaching down to grab at Chanyeol and he swats them away with his rucksack that he removes from his back. He reaches the little man, who has stopped and wondered where the path was. Chanyeol grabs his tiny hand into his large one and pulls him onward.

“Almost there!”

Then the grey wood opened up to the true path. The trees were greener, the airless suffocating and the moon is visible through the leaves. Together they run farther down a hill, far from the grey wood that Chanyeol sees, seem to be shaking. The little man relieves himself of his pack as they begin to dawdle and sits on a dirt, catching his breath. 

“We’re safe as long as we stay on the path.” He takes his top hat and fans his sweaty face despite the frosty encounter in the serewood.

“You’ve never answered me, but what really is a serewood?” Chanyeol asks.

“Flesh-eating trees.” The little man answers. “They hide in every forest if you don’t pay attention. Even Faerie folk who’s known about them all their lives can still get caught and eaten.” He takes a flask from an inner pocket of his coat and takes a long drink. “Cheers, lad. To you, for knowin’ the path. I suppose you drink wine?”

Chanyeol takes the flask the little man is offering and takes a sip; its taste is sour but sweeter than ale. He gives it back to his companion who hides it once more in his coat.

“Now, laddie, I suggest you sit. There needs to be some stuff about you that needs explainin’” The little man goes to sit on his huge pack while Chanyeol gets comfortable on a patch of grass. “Tell me honestly, where are you from?”

“The village of Wall,” answers Chanyeol. “I told you this.”

“Yes, but who is your father and your mother?”

“My father’s name is Taesuk Park. I never knew my mother, my father said she disappeared when I was a baby.”

“Hmmm…how curious. And has your father never spoke of what kind of woman your mother was?” He scratches his chin, beady eyes observing Chanyeol’s features closely.

“Never, I reckon he’s still heartbroken.” says Chanyeol. 

The little man peers at him and asks him an odd question. “Do you know which direction is the village of Wall?” and Chanyeol points. “Where is the Catavarian Isles?” Chanyeol points with no hesitation. “The Debatable Mountain?” Once more Chanyeol points, this time to the southeast. He was never aware there was such a place called a Debatable Mountain, but he knows their whereabouts by instinct.

“Hmmm…do you perhaps know where my sister’s husband’s uncle is?”

Chanyeol frowns and shakes his head. 

“What about where is my sister’s husband’s uncle’s little cottage is located?”

And Chanyeol points to a direction, sure of himself as he is sure he has two arms and legs.

“What about Paris? Italy? Greece?”

“Um if Wall is that way and London is east of the village then Paris or Italy must be somewhere in the same direction isn’t it?” says Chanyeol.

“Curious. You can find any place in Faerie but not in your human world. But you can find Wall except that borders the two realms…you can’t find people either…tell me, do you know where that star fell?”

Chanyeol nods and points again past distant mountains. “It fell there.”

“Hmmm…but that still explains nothing.” The little man huffs. “You hungry lad? We’ve yet to have dinner.”

“A bit,” confesses Chanyeol. “Also my clothes are all torn.” He shows the sleeves of the coat, the length of his trousers, the lapels of his shirt, everything had holes and rips and cuts. He also has cuts and open wounds on his hands.

“Well, you’ve done me great deed gettin’ us out of the serewood and you bet I won’t forget it. First, we get your clothes sorted and your wounds healed and I’ll send you off to your star, all right?”

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” And Chanyeol is indeed grateful to be receiving help in any way he can.

“Good, now, what food you got left in that rucksack of yours? I only have me wine and tea.”

~

The little hairy man left with Chanyeol’s torn clothes and without informing him of his whereabouts after they had had their supper. He is fortunately swaddled in a thick blanket given to him by his companion to keep him warm and keep his modesty, as Chanyeol is only in his undergarments. His wounds are now healed as the little man smeared a funny looking pink salve on them from a funny looking jar covered in muslin cloth. He was told to get some sleep but how could he when he is naked within a scratchy blanket. 

He waits between their packs, laying on the soft grass and gazing at the stars. Faerie was a strange place with strange sights that even the stars seem to be moving about in the sky…or are they fireflies flown too high in the heavens? Chanyeol ponders this when the little man returns with his clothes which to his awe were good as new. No visible holes and cuts and the cloth looks like it had been washed and pressed, but how this came to be Chanyeol wonders for the little man only left him for a few moments.

“How…?” Chanyeol begins, slipping into his old-new trousers. The fabric feels softer on Chanyeol’s legs, and lighter.

“You’ll be amazed, lad, how well the little folk are at tinkerin’ and repairin’ broken things,” says his companion as he watches Chanyeol change.

“Little folk?”

“Them tiny pixies and whatnot. They live in the hollows of the trees.” The little man shrugs and Chanyeol assumes it must be something that happens very often here. “They can fix anythin’ s’long as you give them somethin’ in exchange. I gave what’s left of my good tea.” He sniffs and points to some bushes behind them. “See them there. They’re watchin’.”

Chanyeol turns and observes the bushes. What he thought before as twinkling glow-worms amongst the leaves were in fact tiny people with dragonfly wings.

“Best look like you’re grateful and happy lad or they’ll start singin’” and Chanyeol tries for a bright smile as he fastens the buttons of his coat.

“Now, your star.” The little man huffs. “Where’d you say it was again?”  
Chanyeol, again, points past the mountains. “It looks very far from here. Do you think it’s far? Or is there some sort of shortcut?”

“Answer me a question, laddie. How many miles to Babylon?” asks the little man; it was vague and Chanyeol supposes it’s a riddle at first but then he remembers an old nursery rhyme they were taught at school.

“How many miles to Babylon,” states Chanyeol, in the lilt and tone a child would recite a poem. “Three score miles and ten,

Can I get there by candlelight?  
Yes, and back again.  
Yes, if your feet are nimble and light,  
You can get there by candlelight.”

“Aye, that’s the one,” says the little hairy man. He opens an outer pocket of his pack and takes out a wax candle. It’s nothing out of the ordinary a new wax candle can be but it was fatter and longer and made of dark wax. “This one here is a rare thing. Took a lot of findin’, but I suppose it’s only fair since you saved me life at the serewood and I be damned if I can’t pay my debts.” He places the candle in Chanyeol’s palm.

“What do I do with it?” he asks but the little man isn’t finished, for he places a thin silver chain along with the candle, slippery and delicate. “What is this?”

“Can I get there by candlelight? There and back again.” mutters the little man. “You’ll be needin’ that for when you find the star, I tell you.”

“Yes, but what do I do with these things?”

The little man sniffs, a tad impatient at him. “The chain is for bindin’, of course. As for the candle. You hold it upright in your hand and I’ll light it for you. Then you walk to your star as you thinks about its location, see. Babylon candles tend to melt easy, so you must step briskly. If your feet are nimble and light.”

“You got that from the nursery rhyme?” bewildered, Chanyeol stares at the magical candle he’s holding and the silver chain is so thin he wonders how it could bind but if it’s anything like the candle he doesn’t question it further.

“Not just a rhyme for babies to sing, lad, but an instruction. A spell.” The little man says. “There and back again. Feet, nimble and light, yes?”

“A-all right then,” says Chanyeol and he pockets the chain before grabbing his rucksack. 

“Watch yourself, won’t you laddie?” The little man warns. “Rumors been spreading in town. Evil things, ancient things are on the hunt for your star as well. Best to keep your wits about you and try not to fall into their traps. Would be quite a nuisance if we won’t be able to find you again, eh?”

Chanyeol doesn’t understand what his companion meant but he is using the same tone of voice he had used in the woods as if the forest creatures have ears and could comprehend human speech. He wouldn’t be surprised anymore if they actually could.

He stands straight and holds the candle in his hand expectantly, waiting for the little man. His companion rubs the wick between his thumb and finger and from it sparks a yellow flame so blinding that where they stood looks as bright as day. The gust of wind did nothing to falter the fire.

Chanyeol puts one foot before the other and vanishes in a burst of light. 

The first step Chanyeol takes he is stood next to a fairy pool, the candlelight shining brightly on the vivid greens and blues of the waterfalls; and then his next he is by the tall grass in the mountains, his candle casting shadows in the rock-face of the crags; then he is under the mountain, beneath the dark, dripping caves shining like a beacon in the shadows; the next he is walking through the clouds, Chanyeol’s feet don’t slip and fall on what he assumes is not solid ground; now he is in a forest and afar he spots a chariot being pulled by two billy goats, its rider a fierce looking woman; another step he is standing on the volcanic sand of a beach where a company of men in dark cloaks is being led by a tall, unimpressed lord; then finally his last quick step, he stands in a wasteland.

Chanyeol takes another step but the scenery doesn’t change and he holds up the candle. The wick has burned out and only a few inches of candle wax is left. He observes his surroundings; a mile around him is just burned ash, trunks of trees charred black and the soil under his shoes are black soot. It’s slightly damp and Chanyeol reckons a shower of rain put the fire out. It was still well into the night and the moon is high as he looks for a fallen star, a rock or a crystal but there’s nothing, only destruction.  
He faintly hears soft words being uttered into the air and while Chanyeol listens closely, the words weren’t of a gentle nature at all. Someone is cursing angrily and grunting and huffing.

“Hello?” calls Chanyeol and the cursing stops. He swears there is something faintly glowing behind the two scorched trees leaning over a massive rock. “I’m sorry to intrude but,” He gently says, hoping it will calm the aggravated soul behind the wreckage. “Is anyone there?” 

His reply came as a flying clump of dirt mix with soot and despite his physical shortcomings, Chanyeol is quick to dodge it.

“I won’t hurt you,” says Chanyeol, taking tentative paces towards the collapsed trees.

“Go away!” says an indignant voice, hoarse yet condescendingly firm and another clump of ash-soil flies towards Chanyeol but he is near enough to miss being hit and he peers around the rock.

There crawling on his side and palms dirtied with ash is a young man, staring at Chanyeol with such an ugly scowl of disdain in a dress of blue silk. He glitters as he lay there, a peculiar light glowing from his pale skin and blonde hair. He lifts another handful of soil and makes to throw it.

“W-wait, wait!” Chanyeol holds his hands up and the young man does so and looking very displeased. “What happened-are you all right? Do-do you need help?”

“Help?” scoffs the young man. “You could help by bloody leaving me alone!” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Now scat!”

Miffed but Chanyeol knowing he’s unwanted, shrugs and walks away to look around, all the while leaving the crippled young man in sight. He seems to be standing right in the center of a crater and ten feet away he sees a starburst depression of what must be the point of impact. He rushes towards it but he finds no star, then he glances back at the young man who seems to be struggling to move away from him, crawling or limping up the sloped sides of the crater. Chanyeol approaches him once more.

“Excuse me but this might seem like a strange question, but have you seen a star somewhere around here?” He asks almost excitedly. Chanyeol is so close to his goal and the only person around that might’ve witnessed the star was this young man.

“Are you trying to be funny?” asks the young man, almost as if he’s offended.

“No, really, I’m serious,” says Chanyeol. “There was a star that fell right here!”

The young man rolls his eyes. “I know and I broke my leg like that’s of any importance here.”

“I’m very sorry about that,” Chanyeol now realizes why he’s limping. “But the star.”

“I broke my leg!” yells the young man in such a loud voice it silences Chanyeol. “Oh, but I used to be fine. I was up there in the sky minding my own business when a fucking stone,” he reaches into the pockets of his robes and pulls out a golden pendant with a yellowish stone that hung from two, heavy, intricate looking chains, “Fucking knocked me to your shitty Earth where a scrawny, pale-faced ninny with funny ears will not leave me alone.”

There is a pause as the young man glares and Chanyeol arrives at a shocking conclusion. “You’re the star!”

“And you’re a halfwit, a numbskull, and an asswipe.”

“You’re the star?” repeats Chanyeol and the last handful of dirt is thrown at him and it hits Chanyeol’s shoulder but he couldn’t be bothered. “Really?” He gets another irritated look and the star picks up a pebble this time. “No-I’m sorry but I just never thought stars could be—um.”

“Could be what?” asks the star in a sarcastic tone “Oh were you expecting a big, glowing rock?” He laughs bitterly. “Of all the humans to have found me I get a blooming thickhead.”

“I suppose, although,” Chanyeol searches his pockets. “I deeply apologize in advance for this.” he gets the silver chain and wraps one end to the young man’s wrist and he feels the other end coil around his own.

“What are you doing?!” The star looks at him with something beyond hate, beyond outrage.

“If I’m not mistaken this means you’ll have to come with me,” declares Chanyeol, tugging at the chain. The star resists. “I’m taking you home because I made a promise to my true love Krystal I will get her the fallen star.”

“Well, I’m impressed!” sneers the star. “The girls’ demands these days from their men. A living captured prize. Not to mention a disabled prize. No! As long as it’s a star.” 

Chanyeol pulls at the chain but the star resists, he has quite some strength for someone so crippled. Chanyeol pulls again and the star tugs back with such force he stumbles. 

“I just want you to know,” says the star. “That whoever you bloody think you are—“

“I’m Chanyeol.”

“—and whatever you plan to do with me, wherever you’re going to take me, I will make it my personal mission to make this as tedious and as horrible for you as possible.” The star has such pretty eyes for such an unpleasant grimace. “Idiot.” He adds with feeling. 

“Can you walk?” asks Chanyeol.

“My leg’s broken,” says the star. “He’s stupid and deaf!” he mutters afterward but Chanyeol hears it anyway.

“Can stars sleep?” 

The star sighs heavily. “Not at night when we have better things to do…like shine and twinkle for example.”

“Well, I suggest you forget about shining at night and start sleeping at night. It’s been a long day and I’m very tired. We’ve got a long journey back to Wall,” Chanyeol sits far from the star to lean his head against another burned tree stump. As hateful as the star might be, Chanyeol thinks he’s not the murderous kind but it’s better to be safe. “Unless you can sleep while walking, which will be very convenient and you can shine all you wish this evening.”

Chanyeol props his rucksack as a pillow and tries to ignore the star as he keeps muttering insults and threats. Chanyeol wonders as he lets himself sleep, where the little hairy man has gone now that they’re miles apart, how Krystal would react if she knew that Chanyeol has indeed found her a star, and if the young man in shimmering blue robes cursing a few feet away can eat human food.

“What a blockhead. Who makes a star sleep at night?”

“In case you have forgotten, you’re no longer in the sky. You’re wasting your time shining down here,” now too annoyed to sleep, Chanyeol sits up. “And I was planning on getting you home after I show you to Krystal, you know, but obviously you’d rather call me names and sit here forever.”

“I have a right to call you whatever I wish since you’re stupid enough to believe you can even take me back to the sky,” complains the star. “As unmagical and painfully ordinary as you are.”

“You’d be surprised,” Chanyeol reveals the Babylon candle and the star’s eyes go wide with what could only be hope before it darkens again into despair.

“There’s barely anything left it that, dunderhead.” says the star.

“Well, be grateful I’m not using it right now to get us back to Wall!” exclaims Chanyeol. “Unless you have better ideas since you’re so clever and I’m the dunderhead.”  
The star purses his pink lips scornfully and “Hmphs,” his head to the side in a prideful fashion. If Chanyeol isn’t already frustrated at his captive, he could’ve found that act funny and endearing at most. “Fine!” huffs the star and he curls to his side on the ground and Chanyeol assumes he has given up shining for rest.

~

It was dawn when Chanyeol shakes the star awake so they can begin their slow trek to Wall. The star complains but Chanyeol threatens he will use the Babylon candle if they don’t get a move on. He offers his assistance to help but he was brushed off and he watches the young man struggle. He puts weight on his right leg first, a steadying arm to keep his balance, and when he pushes off the ground to stand on his left leg, the star crumples and this time can’t dismiss Chanyeol’s helping hand as he whines and curses.

“My leg,” the star’s eyes flashed and in the morning light, Chanyeol sees they were the softest shade of blue. “I-I can’t stand on it. It must be broken badly.” He looks about to cry beneath the defiant curve of his mouth and Chanyeol takes pity.

“I’m sorry. Look, I’ll make you a splint. You’ll be all right.” Chanyeol gently sets the star back down to sit on a tree stump and looks for a fallen branch that’s not charred or covered in soot. He splits it using his knife and taking off his coat he cuts one sleeve of his shirt into strips and binds the stick to the star’s fractured leg, who says nothing as Chanyeol works but when he pulls the last knot tightly, he thought he heard a small whimper.

“There,” says Chanyeol. “We should really get you to a real doctor. I’m only a simple farm boy, not a surgeon.”

“Cleary,” the star spits dryly. 

“Do you want me to get you another stick so you can use it as a cane?” offers Chanyeol but he gets an evil look his way. “It’s that or you’ll have to lean against me.”

“A cane would be nice then since I can hit you on the head with it.”

Chanyeol shakes his head. “On that thought, we can just forget I asked.” He holds out his hand and the star regards it like how one regards a dish that caused an upset stomach. Chanyeol’s almost afraid he’ll spit on it yet he takes it nonetheless and together they have the star clutching firmly to his arm and they wobble at a snail’s pace out of the great crater and into the nearby woodlands.

The star no longer looked as ethereal as he did in the evening under the daylight, though his dress robes shimmered as they move and to Chanyeol it imitates the evening sky. They don’t speak as they trudge for what seems like hours and hours but every now and then he would catch the star look forlornly at the chain that binds them.

“I did it for love, you know.” Chanyeol helps the star maneuver over a tree root that snakes across the path they walk on. “You’re my only hope that Krystal will accept my proposal. And she’s the prettiest, the sweetest, the kindest and the wisest girl in all of the land.”

“And this wise, kind creature sent you here to torture me?” the star asks.

“Not really. Like I said I made a promise. I just didn’t expect to find the star be a young man.” admits Chanyeol.

“And you couldn’t have left me alone? Or maybe help me but then leave me alone? Why drag me into your stupid promise with a lady?”

“Love.” Chanyeol sniffs and the star scoffs.

“I hope you choke on it.”

“I won’t,” says Chanyeol, smiling at the thought that he is on his way to present the star to his Krystal, albeit a long and arduous trip. “Come on.”

“Where are we going anyway?” the star whines as he hobbles. “Is there a village nearby?” he snickers.

“Yes. It’s there up north.”

“You knew that?” The star asks, limping and gripping so tightly Chanyeol is sure his fingers will leave a mark.

“I just do. Well, after you asked me, I just do.” 

“You just do.” repeats the star. 

The forest is quiet save for their shuffling and the chirps of wild birds in the branches. It was a lovely sight, with bluebells carpeting the ground and foliage in varying colors of spring and autumn. Chanyeol thinks perhaps seasons don’t work as they do here from back home.

“Are you sure?” asks the star again.

“Yes! I do. I don’t know why but I can find any place in Faerie without ever having been there,” explains Chanyeol.

A pause and then, “You’re a loony, that’s what.”

“Look, maybe it’s the magic of my love for Krystal showing me the way.” Chanyeol shrugs and the star gags. “Besides, north is easy enough to spot. During the day the evening star is…hold on.” He scans the horizon and what used to be the usual sight of the brightest star in the north, but there was none. “That’s odd. It’s gone.”

The star scoffs, something he does often lately and mutters something unpleasant again under his breath. Chanyeol doesn’t understand why he’s upset all of a sudden but he says nothing and they return to their silence through the trees.

By high noon, Chanyeol was starving and assists the star to sit at the foot of a huge oak tree while he rummages around his rucksack only to find he has no food left. He remembers the last meal he had with the little hairy man and how they finished the rest of his rye bread and cheese and how his old companion ate all of his apples. He has nothing but wine in the flask left.

The star is leaning his head against the trunk when Chanyeol asks him. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“No,” says the star, sounding almost quite at peace and sleepy under the shade of the forest.

“What do stars eat?” Chanyeol asks but he receives no answer and he lets out an exhausted breath. “We have to make it to the next village for our meal. I won’t have you starving yourself and I don’t know if stars—if you—eat, or what you eat, but you have to eat something. Come on now.” 

“I can’t anymore,” cries the star, opening his eyes, angry and almost pleading. 

“It’s not too far to the village.”

“Please,” says the star. “My leg is broken. We’ve been walking for hours and I’m tired. I tried sleeping but I can’t get used to being awake in the day just yet. Let me rest.” There is a pout to his thin mouth, the slant of his eyes more prominent as he insists and the watery sound of his voice. And Chanyeol’s resolve evaporates.

“All right,” he says and the star sighs reclining back against the tree and shutting his eyelids. “You sleep and wait here while I…while I get some food to eat.”

“Wait here?” the star wonders and holding up the chain that connects their wrists.

“Oh…give me your hand.”

The star presents his hand, thin wrists, and long, slender fingers. Chanyeol grips the chain and fumbles to undo it but it remains intact. He tugs at the end by his own wrist and still, it wouldn’t undo. Chanyeol even tries cutting it with his knife but it was deceivingly strong.

“I-I guess I’m tied to you as you are to me,” says Chanyeol.

The star groans and eyes the chain as if it insulted him. “Probably say a magic word or incantation?”

“I don’t know any magic words…” Chanyeol takes the chain in both hands, it was neither long nor short; always extending as far as the star can get away from him but never releasing its prisoner from its grip. “Um…please?” The chain ripples from where it’s coiled around his wrist and melts away that he can finally slip out of it.

“Here,” Chanyeol passes the other end of the chain to the star. “I’ll try not to take too long and I’ll have to trust you, on your honor as a star that you won’t run away.”

“I’m crippled. I’m stuck here until you get back.” says the star pointedly and Chanyeol decides that will have to do. 

And he walks off, the last half of a mile to the village, bringing only his coat and the few coins he had in his pocket. The rucksack he leaves amongst the roots of the oak tree next to the star. He looks over his shoulder and the star has leaned back into the tree, sleeping soundly.

~

The star wakes in the darkness, his splinted leg awkwardly splayed to his side and he stares up at his home up in the sky, or what used to be his home. He sees his brothers and sisters twinkling, he can hear them titter with worry to see their precious brother trapped in the human world. He sees his mother, the magnificent moon of the skies. She seems almost imposing, so bright he can feel his siblings vibrate in unease. Then he hears a rustle in the trees, twigs snapping and leaves being crunched.

He snaps his head towards the sound. He is vulnerable here, too visible in the darkness, his skin glittering as it does in the shadows. Very much alone, cold and miserable with the pain in his leg, he listens nervously for whatever it is that is out there, coming closer with every beat of his pounding heart. What used to be an enchanting wood with rich hues of green and gold and the multi-colored wildflowers become ominous in blackness and mystery. Though he is never alone as his kin watches from above, they cannot help him in whatever peril he might befall. He has seen greed and malice over the hundred years he’s watched Earth and the fate of the last star that fell. Humans will do the unthinkable for whatever power they can grasp.

The sounds are nearer now and he holds his breath. He spots a great, white beast through the low branches and releases the air from his lungs and smiles a rare genuine smile so beautiful that the unseen tiny creatures of the forest gasp. It was only a unicorn; a huge, bulk of a horse, trotting carefully up to him and like the star, the unicorn also faintly glittered in the night, its long, ivory horn stand proudly on its forehead.

The star holds out his hand and the unicorn lets him caress its muzzle. “What are you doing here?” he whispers and the unicorn nickers, its pool black eyes regard the star closely and it walks closer before it kneels in front of him.

The unicorn blows out its nostrils loudly and the star immediately understood. With great effort, he places a hand on the tree to support him and pushes up to stagger on his good leg, limping his way over to the unicorn. It takes a while but he manages to maneuver himself to mount side-saddle on the beast, unable to have the strength to swing over his broken leg to sit properly. He clutches on the silvery mane as the unicorn rises carefully on its legs. It stamps its hoof a few times, whinnying as if telling the star brace himself, walking first then slowly and easily into a gallop. 

~

Chanyeol finds the village to be tiny, only a few cottage houses and quaint shops around a belfry. He purchases some bread cakes and cheese and a number of strange fruits in one of the shops: soft like apricots yet purple like grapes and tastes of sweet pears. Then he asks the portly woman who sells him her wares where he can get a quick bite to eat and it so happens she has some porridge cooking in a pot and gives him a bowl for sixpences. Chanyeol sits on the steps of the belfry while he eats and wondering if the star is more awake now that the sun is beginning to set. 

He walks back to the oak tree where he had left the star, carrying all his acquisitions in a gunny sack. The star never answered Chanyeol what he liked to eat or if he ever ate at all and he wonders if he’d taste some of the funny fruit. It was an inconvenience, this constant hunger, and eating, it wasn’t like this for the heroes Chanyeol read as a child, where they encountered many dangers and crossed miles without hunger and fatigue and dirt on their faces. But something makes him stop in his tracks.

There is the oak tree but there was no star. Chanyeol thinks he might’ve made a mistake and got lost in the dark, but no, that is the oak tree where the star used to be.

“Hello?” He calls and only sounds of the forest at night respond and Chanyeol’s stomach falls and he suddenly feels stupid. He doesn’t call anymore, for there would be no answer. He just tosses his purchases to the roots of the tree, regret, and shame in his heart. He should have never trusted so easily and have shown such mercy. If he had to, he could’ve dragged the star to the village where he at least can keep an eye on him. He should’ve understood from the star’s gutsy attitude he would have the will to escape, he reckons those pained whines were all a pretense too. 

Chanyeol slumps at the foot of the tree and hugs himself to keep warm. He’s too tired and too upset to follow blindly in the dark. He only knows the star is very far away and out of his clutches. 

He sighs and thinks about his idiocy as the moonlight seeps through the tree canopy above and the chance he missed at winning Krystal’s affection until he falls asleep feeling sorry for himself.

~

Something is flashing in and out between the gaps of the forest. A radiant light that passes like a vision. It is a young man atop a great white beast with a gleaming horn. He had the palest head of blonde hair and a beautiful radiant face set in determination, his long blue robes flow with the night wind, a golden chain that hung a yellow stone around his waist.

They speed through the dark forest. Riding a unicorn was not like riding a horse for its gait was wilder, covering great distances in a few bounds. There is no moonlight beneath the leaves of the trees but the unicorn shimmers in soft light while the young man glitters as if he left a trail of glimmering stardust behind him.

~

Chanyeol is asleep but he seems to be dreaming again. They have been quite vivid ever since he stepped on Faerie lands. He hears voices this time too, so clustered he can’t distinguish what they’re saying, but they sound worried as if they’re trying to warn Chanyeol of an imminent danger. Soft voices like the wind and they keep calling his name. Chanyeol, Chanyeol…

 _Help him,_ a voice more powerful than the rest rises. _Please…_ In his mind’s eye, he sees the moon and it seems she is the one speaking to him. The great orb in the sky vibrating with a deep and old magic. _I’ve done all that I could… Help my son…_

And with those words, the clustered voices start to become clearer.

_Save our brother, Chanyeol._

_He is in grave danger._

_They will kill him._

_No star is safe in Faerie._

He is drowning in the noise, the voices so loud in his head it’s as if it’s breaking and his ears bleeding. Something is crawling up his arm that it starts to grab at his flesh and with a jump he wakes, his dream fading into fragments in his mind, and scrambles to get away from the creature that tried to seize him, but there is only the oak tree and the darkness. Chanyeol looks at the moon that is now hidden behind dark rain clouds and he hears rolling thunder from afar as he catches his breath, his heart pounding.

“You’re such a loud dreamer, you know.” says a woman’s voice and Chanyeol snaps. He pinches himself to ensure he’s no longer asleep. There is no one around, only the trees and the sound of the rustling leaves. “The forest is usually so silent, but it’s the first time in fifty years I was awakened and by a noisy lad too.”

“I’m sorry it’s just—” He peers at the tree he was sleeping against and is certain the voice came from within it. “I never knew trees could talk.”

“I wasn’t always a tree,” the oak says, its branches groaning as it sways in the wind. “I used to be a wood nymph but I was turned into a tree by a powerful magician. He was in love with me you see, but I ran away. Some of them just can’t take no for an answer.”

The wind is getting colder on Chanyeol’s skin and he knows the star is getting further and further from him. “Well, you make a magnificent tree.”

“I was pretty cute as a nymph too,” the oak coyly says, making its leaves rustle as if embarrassed. “And you are quite well-mannered, except when you were pulling that poor star and bound him against his will.”

“That—” Chanyeol tries to reason but he thinks that maybe this oak tree is as old as the ancient and mysterious forests of Faerie, and it would be foolish of him to try to outsmart something wiser than he was. “Is true, but we had an agreement and I have my promise to Krystal to fulfill. It was only to ensure he doesn’t run away.” He supposes these trees are silent witnesses to whatever passes through these woods and he’s not surprised when the oak catches what he’s avoiding to mention and lectures him for his behavior.

“He couldn’t have even if he tried to. He was crippled.” The tree says. “And all for the love of a woman who might not return it.”

Chanyeol doesn’t answer and could only hang his head in guilt. He did force the star to walk a great distance on his broken leg and even had the audacity to make him stay awake in the daylight and prevented the star from shining like he once did in the skies, and could have been a source of comfort and happiness. The star was plucked from his home; he was lonely, sad, confused and hurt, physically and emotionally and Chanyeol only thought of himself.

And what would his father say about his actions? Chanyeol, you are too kind. He would be disappointed in him if Taesuk knew. His kind son mercilessly capturing a fallen and crippled star to take to Wall, not pausing to help and only obeying what he thinks his heart is telling him.

“I’m—I’m ashamed at what I did,” says Chanyeol, forlorn and at a loss of what to do. 

“Well,” the tree considers. “You did release him, sort of. If you had kept him chained, then there is no power on earth and sky that could ever make me help you, but you unchained him, and for that, I will help you.”

“Help me?”

“Help you to help the star.”

“Well, um thank you,” says Chanyeol. “But how will you do that?” He wonders. Surely the tree, with its roots sunk deep into the earth, cannot remove itself nor would its branches elongate and conjure some magic spell, then he remembers all the strange sights he has witnessed in Faerie and decided nothing could be entirely impossible in these lands.

“The trees talk, young hero. They talk to the wind, to the rocks, to the animals, and to other trees, and word passes quickly from one wood to the next. And we hear things, voices of spirits and gods and other entities, even the stars you heard in your dream.”

Chanyeol’s eyes go wide, remembering what the gentle voices were whispering to him when he was asleep. “They say that the star is in danger.”

“Aye, so you must find him and protect him.” There passes an ominous wind, shaking the branches of the oak tree and causing some of her leaves to cascade down to Chanyeol’s feet. “There is a path through the forest and in a few minutes, a coach will come. If you hurry, you will not miss it.”

At the urgency of her words, Chanyeol gathers the food he bought from the nearby village that he so carelessly threw when he discovered the star’s escape into his rucksack, and now there is new hope once again in his heart. 

“Quick! The coach is almost here. Run!”

He runs through the forest with a sudden burst of energy, he could hear his blood pumping in his ears, as well as the pounding of hooves through the trees getting closer and closer. Chanyeol fears he will miss it and when he emerges through the bushes he comes by a path and the coach has already sped past.

The air that Chanyeol breathes into his lungs is short and his throat is dry. He wants to collapse to the ground, but thinking of the star’s fate, he wobbles after the coach. He doesn’t know how long he has been walking for his mind blanked and his vision blurred at the edges, his muscles protesting at each new step but he soon reaches the coach. It stopped when a massive tree branch seemed to have blocked its way, and the sole driver of the coach tries and fails to remove it.

“Damn this branch!” says the coachman. He wears a luxurious, long black coat, and Chanyeol notices is so short he reaches only to his shoulder. He looks quite young too, with intense dark eyes upturned at the corners and thin lips and upturned eyebrows, which strikes him as odd. “Fell to no wind or storm. Scared my horses half to death.”

Chanyeol assists him in pushing the branch back into the woods and away from the path, and when the driver leaves to ready his horses, he whispers a thank you to the forest for the fallen branch, hoping that it reaches the oak tree, before he asks the lone driver if he could catch a ride with him through the forest.

“I don’t take any passengers, especially humans.” the driver eyes Chanyeol’s scrawny built from top to bottom, blown eyes and messy hair with bits of leaves stuck to it. “Although now that I look closely at you boy, you don’t seem like it at all.”

“I do not know what you mean, good sir,” Chanyeol says. “Surely divine Providence sent you to me, just as it sent me to you. I’m unarmed” He turns, revealing only his sad state of a rucksack and his dirty clothes. “And time will come when you’ll need another pair of hands again. Please, let me ride in your carriage.”

The lone driver rubs his chin while he thinks then nods at Chanyeol. “All right you can come and sit up front with me on the driver’s seat to keep me company. It will be a dangerous journey but I sense that you are meant to join me.”

Chanyeol smiles and climbs up the carriage and onto the seat next to the lone driver who snaps his whip and the horses pull the coach back into its full throttle travel down the worn path. Chanyeol hopes that this time he might catch up to the star sooner and worries the star’s well-being after the oak’s warning. The star was very sourly and had a pot-mouth but it was within reason, and he wishes the star would try to stay out of trouble.

They rush through the forest long into the night and Chanyeol falls in and out sleep while the driver resumes his restless hold onto the reins, dreaming of trees and moons and stars and ghosts. He could feel the star is almost ahead and at times he feared that the coach will go in a different direction when the road split into two. Fortunately, it seems the coach is also following the star’s path and Chanyeol wonders if indeed Providence is on his side tonight.

“If it’s not too rude to ask sir about where you are going?” asks Chanyeol.

“I’m off to search for my lost people. We have been separated after a skirmish with our enemies but the constellations have told me we are soon to meet again,” declares the driver. “And you boy? Where are you headed?”

“Me? I’m headed to what is in front of me.” Chanyeol answers but something about the glowing of the eyes of his driver beneath the moonlight makes him tell a half-truth. “Well, I’m looking for a young man that I offended with my stupidity.” He admits. “I wish to make amends.”

“A young man eh?” the driver grunts. “Is that what you prefer?”

Chanyeol nearly falls from his seat in confusion. “What? No! I already have my Krystal that I love back in my village.”

“It’s all right, no need to fuss. We from Beyond the Wall do not judge.” The lone driver says. “Before I forget, I am known as the elf prince Xiumin.”

“My name is Chanyeol. I have never met an elf prince before.” 

“What is a prince without his people?” sighs his driver. “But I feel it in my magic that my tribe is close.”

The previous rolling thunder and strikes of lightning turn into a sudden downpour of rain, the cold winds turn strong and harsh against their wet skin. Xiumin offers for Chanyeol to go inside the coach instead but he refuses, stating that they would need two pairs of eyes to see clearly in the storm. The horses trotted slowly now as the roads become slick with mud as rainwater flowed down from the mountain they were climbing.

Chanyeol’s coat and shirt are soaked through and he is too cold to even shiver. The road is beginning to get a lot harder to see and Xiumin shouts that they should quickly find a dry roof to stay under though Chanyeol wonders if such could be found anywhere in these lands because for what he can minimally observe, there was only wilderness as their path rises in treacherous rocks and the horses walks laboriously.

“There’s a light ahead!” Chanyeol exclaims, a hand over his eyes to try and look closely.

“Where?” asks Xiumin and he too squints through the downpour. “There is a light. Well done! We have to be cautious I must say. There are bad things in these mountains. Let us hope that they are friendly.”

He whips the horses to tread faster and the coach lurches forward on wet, uneven ground. Thunder booms and the winds blow mercilessly as they turn a bend in the road and the source of the light they saw becomes clearer.

“Well, I’ll be,” Xiumin exclaims. “It’s an inn!”

~

The star didn’t think it was possible to be even more miserable in this wretched place. He is soaked and his hair is stuck to his forehead as he shivers from the cold when he made it to the pass, miserable not only for himself but for the unicorn as well, who had been running endlessly until the rain slows them down in the mountains. There had been no food for the unicorn to regain its strength as the forests turn into rock and dirt, its hooves covered in mud and the once glorious mane of hair was matted and wet.

The star curses the day he crashed to Earth, he curses the stone on the golden chain around his waist that hit him. The peaceful blue-green globe of Earth seemed so harmless from the sky but now he loathes it and everything that exists on it (except the unicorn). His teeth chatter and he is saddle sore from sitting sideways on the firm, muscled body of the unicorn.

Amidst the noise of rainfall and the sight of the surroundings hazier than a morning fog, the star glimpses a light in the distance. He doesn’t urge the unicorn to canter faster in its direction for it seems to know there was something up ahead. A sign swung in the wind and the star sees a black chariot illustrated upon it. An inn, he supposes, as lightning strikes to reveal its thatched roofs and large paneled windows that glow with warm light. The door is open and shadows move within the inn; the unicorn whinnies as it halts before it, hooves tapping at the wet dirt restlessly, and the star runs a hand down its mighty neck to calm it.

“Oh goodness gracious,” says a voice from a doorway. It was a woman’s, concerned and friendly. “Please come in, dearie, and out of the rain. We have food, a warm fire and enough hot water to fill a tub to ward off the chill.”

The woman’s voice soothes the star and to him, she seems to be in good conscience offering help and comfort under her roof. She looks kindly, in her red peasant’s dress and hair tied to up on her head with a few loose strands dancing in the wind.

“I will need some--um--assistance coming in,” the star meekly says. “My leg is broken.”

“Oh poor dear,” gasps the woman. “I’ll have my husband, Billy to help you.” She lets out a peculiar call, similar to how you would subdue a wild animal, a sort of rolling sound in her throat and a tall, white-bearded man hobbles from behind her. He has lazy eyes and spoke nothing as he approaches the unicorn as it regards him coolly.

The star feels at a loss as Billy only looks at him. “You can help me down and I’ll lean on you to walk.”

Billy grunts, but when the star places a tentative hand on the gruff man’s shoulder so he can shimmy down from his side-saddle position, Billy grab behinds his knees and the star finds himself maneuvered to be carried like a babe.

“Oh! Wait--I can walk just fine!” he exclaims as it feels strange to be held in some strange man’s arms like a damsel. He tries to push but the woman tuts and Billy hobbles back inside the inn, the star in his hold, unmindful of his wet state and puts him down to sit on a stool, dripping and miserable.

“Billy, take the young man’s horse to the stables for some water and hay.” The woman orders and without answering her husband obeys, leaving them alone inside the warm inn.

“You poor sweetheart,” The innkeeper’s wife says, caressing the smooth, cold skin of the star’s cheek. He doesn’t flinch at all, for her touch is soft and gentle. “Look at the state of you, wet as a water nymph! And your pretty dress, ruined under the rain.”

“These are robes,” corrects the star but the woman dismisses him with a hush.

“We must get you out of your wet things before you catch a cold!” The woman pauses and regards him closely. “If you don’t mind an old woman to help you undress, or should I call for my son if you’re uncomfortable?”

The star shrugs since there were no such things as niceties and opportunities to be embarrassed when you lived in the sky with millions of your siblings, and so they peel off the star’s soaked robes and he is now naked save for topaz stone on a golden chain around his waist. There was a tub before the fire and the woman dips a hand in to check the temperature.

“How would you like your bath, dear?”

“I don’t know.” The star says. His mind in jumbles at this odd turn of events. “I’ve never had a bath.”

“Why, you poor duck. Well, it should be perfect now, not too hot.” And the woman, also uncaring of his nudity as he supposes for she had a young son of her own, assists him into the tub and the star lets out a first long, grateful sigh. The woman busies herself with hanging the wet robes on a hook by the flames to dry.

The warm water is good to his previously clammy flesh and the soreness of his backside disappears, his splinted leg is also submerged and the pain, for a moment, is gone. He feels languid and sleepy and truly happy since he landed, something he thought wasn’t possible.

“There you are, my sweet.” says the innkeeper’s wife. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much better, thank you.” says the star.

“And how is your heart feeling?” she asks.

“My...heart?” The star thinks it an unusual question but the woman seems genuinely curious and concerned. “Happier. Less troubled than I was yesterday.”

“Marvelous,” smiles the woman, her lips red and her eyes glint in the firelight. “A warm bath will do wonders for a heart to blaze in happiness.” She reaches to chuck him gently on the chin. “A good and strong heart.”

She lets him soak until the water turns tepid, before she calls for whom the star assumes is her son, a dull-looking boy, as speechless as his father and none of the gentle and fair demeanor of his mother, to help the star out of his bath and replace the ruined splint on his broken leg. The innkeeper’s wife wraps him in a snug toweling robe to dry, then she and her son hold the star’s arms to guide him, slowly leaning and limping, to sit on a bench beside a long wooden table. On it was laid a cleaver and a sharp knife, with hilts made of bones and blades of dark glass.

“Now, make yourself comfortable, my dear.” The woman again strokes his chin and the star only feels security and a sense of calm, when the howl of the winds and gale of the storm nearly masks a loud booming voice and a fist pounding on the door.

“Service! Accommodations! Food and wine!”

Nobody moves to open the door, Billy and the son only turn to the woman as if they couldn’t act without waiting for orders. Her lips twist into a mix of a grimace and forced smile, then she mutters. “It can wait...for now. After all,” she is a bit touchy, a strange yet eager woman, as this time her fingers tuck a stray lock of hair behind the star’s ears. “You are going nowhere, are you dearie? Not with your leg and the rain.”

“I deeply appreciate your kindness and hospitality.” the star says.

The woman only smiles tightly, a fierce gaze in her dark eyes. “Wait here, my lovely. There’ll be plenty of time just as soon as I’m done with these nuisances.”

~

Chanyeol has never felt so thrilled at the simple sight of a bright inn in his life. He clutches tightly on the reins to keep the horses steady while the lord bounds to the door, the hood of his cloak up and rams his fist on the wooden surface yelling for anyone who might answer from the inside. 

Somewhere in his heart of hearts--or the part of himself that oddly knows directions and distances of places he never heard of--knew that the star is very close and this eases the worry that weighted on his shoulders right when the oak from the woods spoke to him. But he will tend to the horses first, as a favor to Xiumin for granting him a ride before he can properly think of the growing hunger and tiredness in his bones and the enticing thought of a warm fire to dry his wet clothes.

A tall, gruff man opens the door for Xiumin, peering at him with odd-staring blank eyes and a long white beard. He chuckles in relief to feel the warmth of the indoors seep out to chill of the storm. 

“Good evening, my good man. We require accommodations.” Xiumin rubs his gloved hands, one foot already inside before the innkeeper can welcome him to enter. “My companion is outside taking the horses to the stables, perhaps if you could assist him?”

The gruff man doesn’t respond but makes an odd sound from his throat and hobbles without a word into the rain. Xiumin barely worries himself with this behavior as he closes the door behind him.

Together with the wordless gruff man, Chanyeol and he guide the horses one by one to nearby stable by the side of the inn and let them settle in one of the stalls. There was a white horse asleep in the farthest stall but Chanyeol left it be as he gets to work, brushing down the horses after the gruff man went back inside. As he was busy fetching water and hay when another wordless fellow, this time a dull pot-boy came out with a goblet of steaming wine.

“Thank you for your kindness,” says Chanyeol. “Put it down there and I’ll drink it when I’m done.” The pot-boy places it on the tack box and leaves as quickly as he came.

Then the horse in the last stall wakes to stand on its feet and begins to grow restless, making noise and kicking the door to its stall.

“Settle down over there,” calls Chanyeol in his most soothing tone, as soothing as the deep timbre of voice can become. 

He picks the mud and stones from beneath their hooves with great care, all the while thinking how he should apologize to the star once they reunite. Is it similar to how you apologize to a lady? With gentlemanly manner, take his hand and express his regret in as much pomp and fine words he can muster to earn back the star’s favor? He wonders what etiquette do celestial beings have, their social mores and actions that might offend them. For all he knows, apologizing might be a wrong decision. 

But in the middle of his thoughts, a deafening clatter interrupted him. The white horse, although upon closer look he realizes it isn’t a normal horse if the great horn from its forehead is any indication, kicked down the door of its stall and charged towards him, pounding hooves shaking the floor of the stable.

Chanyeol desperately throws himself down and out of the unicorn’s path, arms around his head when he tumbles and he knocks the tack box over, spilling his steaming wine.

Heartbeats pass, the unicorn has stopped in front of the stable entrance, its head lowered as if gesturing to the fallen goblet. Chanyeol achingly got to his feet and his steaming wine is indeed still steaming...and bubbling and disintegrating the hay and dirt its contents have touched.

“Poison,” he whispers and raises his head to the magical beast that saved his life from an untimely death. The unicorn stares into his eyes and Chanyeol knew the fearful truth of their circumstance. The people in the inn weren’t the friendly sort.

His blood cold in his veins, Chanyeol runs to the stable door.

~

“Greetings, milord. Wine?” asks a woman in a long red dress as she emerges to greet Xiumin from what he assumes was the kitchen. She beholds a goblet on a tray and smiling sweetly with her red lips. 

“I apologize but I will refuse your offer,” says Xiumin. “We elves never accept human food and drink lest our minds and magic wither from its mundaneness. Nevertheless, I will pay you as if it were your wine.” He unclasps his once elegant soaking coat and hangs it by the fire. “Now my friend in the stables has made no such vow and he would be glad to accept in my stead, and we’ll require the best room you have.”

The woman nods politely and passes the tray to a dull young boy as he takes the tray in his shaking hands before hurrying away. “Certainly. I’ll have it prepared with fresh beds and light up the fire for you and your companion.”

Xiumin, for the first time, notices the young man in a bathrobe sitting at the table regarding him warily. “I didn’t know there was another guest. A pleasure.” He holds out a palm to shake but the young man only stares at it, unsure before his own clasps it lightly. Soft hands, Xiumin thinks he might be a young nobleman. With that thought comes a loud clatter and whinnying from the stable. “Something must have spooked the horses.” He mutters, thick eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Must be the thunder,” says the innkeeper’s wife. 

“Aye,” Xiumin agrees, distracted, for something else has caught his attention. He stares at the young man who stares back with the softest blue eyes. They droop at the corners, endearingly so like a puppy. To the weak vision of man, they wouldn’t have noticed the faint glow that came from the young man’s skin. 

Xiumin observes the woman up close; tall for a female, hair dark as night and lips as scarlet as fresh blood. She is beautiful with the soft skin of her cheeks but there were freckles that came with age that dotted her collarbones and flesh of her regal neck sags beneath her dark curls. She was both young and old, and a chill creeps up his spine.

He spies the knives that were lying on the tabletop the young man was sitting at and recognizes them at once. As a young boy, he used to explore the deepest ends of the vast library at his father’s castle, old scrolls of crumbling antiquity where these very knives were pictured. Old artifacts from the First Age of the world.

“You are not safe here, my dear.” He declares, approaching the seated young man.

Before he could get closer, the innkeeper’s wife hurries to stand between the two men. “I’ll have you not bothering the other guest now, sir.” She says with a firm voice.

The front door slams open and young Chanyeol comes running in screaming. “Xiumin! Xiumin! They tried to poison me!”

With an unnatural agility, the elf prince steps aside and parries the knife of the woman with his own sword when it made for his neck. He swings expertly when the woman came close, slicing off her right ear and a large chunk of her hair from her head. She screams.

“Billy, seize the brat!” shrieks the woman in the red dress, pale hands gripping the side of her bleeding head as the elf prince continues to strike at her.

Billy rushes for Chanyeol while he reaches the star who is as pale as the dead body before them. His eyes are wild with fright and he doesn’t question when Chanyeol makes an attempt to shield him from the innkeeper; it was then when the unicorn charges into the inn. The innkeeper huffs and lowers his head before he runs for the unicorn. The unicorn too lowers its head, and thus was the end of Billy.

The innkeeper’s wife screams furiously and conjures a powerful blast from her fingers that knocks the elf prince to the floor before she advances on the unicorn. The beast twice her size rises on its hind legs and kicks the air with its front hooves in a display of aggression. It swung its head and with its horn stabs the witch through her shoulder, lifting her off the ground. The witch, impaled, plunges her glass knife deep into the side of the unicorn’s neck, through muscle and bone, and the beast collapses on its knees, releasing her. A wave of her hand and green flames came forth from her fingertips and surround the unicorn as it cries in agony, the fire licking up very wooden surface within and without the inn and soon it will consume them.

Chanyeol takes hold of the star’s waist, trying to lift him and hoping he has strength enough to carry them out of the inn but his clumsy feet stumbles in his haste and his weak arms fail him and they crumble to their knees. His skin prickles and his nostrils engulfed in the scent of burning wood and metal and flesh. The star is lamenting the renewed pain in his leg and Chanyeol can do nothing, except watch the witch-queen slowly stalk to where they have knelt. 

Agonizingly slow, prey in the sights of its predator, a predator leisurely taking its time for it knows they can’t escape and relishing as hope disappears from their eyes, an ancient bloodied knife in her hand; red dress and dark eyes and a murderous smile as she gazes at them.

“The burning golden heart of a star at peace is much finer than the flickering heart of a frightened star,” she tells them, calm and detached like her sinister smile and the blood splattered on her dress. “But even so, better than no heart at all.”

The firestorm within mimics the storm of rain and thunder outside, a gust of wind blows and Chanyeol’s mind, in its confusion of impending death thinks of nothing and everything. His father, Krystal, the village of Wall, their farmhouse, the little hairy man.

There is another yell, and Chanyeol and the star watch the elf prince emerge from the flames and kick furiously at the witch’s back and pins her down with his knee as he yells at Chanyeol. “Do not despair, young one! Leave now in a burst of light and help will come!”

Chanyeol nods and he takes the star’s hand and his other deep into his pocket. ”Stand up. Now.”

“I can’t,” sobs the star and it’s the first time Chanyeol sees him since they met, despite his fractured state, helpless and resigned, and that it doesn’t suit him.

“Stand, or we die.” urges Chanyeol and the star nods; awkwardly clings to him as they pull themselves on their feet, his weight resting on Chanyeol’s side.

 _“Stand or you die?”_ mocks the witch-queen. “You die now, my sweet children, standing or kneeling, it matters not to me.” She has somehow gripped the elf prince’s leg and they could see his flesh burning at her hands. The room is filled with the roaring of fire and pain.

“Xiumin!” Chanyeol desperately cries.

“Do not worry about me, lad! My magic can hold her off!” Xiumin grabs the witch’s neck and proceeds to burn her as well. “Quickly!”

Chanyeol gulps the lump in his throat and breathing through the tightness in his chest at leaving a friend, he turns to the star.

“Think of home,” he blurts to the star and holding him tight. “Now, _walk!”_

From the hand in his pocket, he brings out what remains of the Babylon candle and thrusts his hand into the fire beside him.

Chanyeol’s arm and his whole body only know pain then and he screams as he had never before and the inn vanishes behind them. The howls of the witch-queen ringing in their ears as they step into a burst of light.

The first and they were beneath the earth, the candlelight bringing the spidery shadows of tree roots on their heads; another they were in a vast canyon of sweeping rock formations; a third and they are up in the sky, among the thunderclouds.

This is where the last of the candle wax melts over Chanyeol’s burnt palm and the flame is snuffed out under rainwater.

~

Up in the sky, two of the most unlikely people sat together on a fluffy white cumulus cloud. It was cold and damp the deeper you sink into it but soft and oddly a very comfortable place to rest. It felt solid and gaseous at once and Chanyeol is able to cover his burnt hand with the cool mist of the cloud which eased the smarting pain and swelling.

They had argued the night previous exhausting themselves when they were once again soaking and frozen under a storm but this time found themselves on top of a cloud.

_“What did you do, you thick-headed bastard?!” yelled the star, detaching himself from Chanyeol’s embrace to see that they were miles above the ground._

_“I said to think of home, what did you do?!” Chanyeol flicked the wax that had stuck to his hand._

_“Home!” the star laughs. “My home is up in the galaxy, nimwit! You obviously also thought of your home and now we’re stuck literally in the middle of nowhere! Next time be a little specific as to what ‘home’ you want me to think of!”_

_“Specific? We were about to be skewered like lamb back there! How do you expect me to think straight and be specific?!”_

_“Well, try harder you sad excuse for a human being!”_

Now they sit as far from each other as the cloud permits, which is about the size of Chanyeol’s room at his father’s farmhouse. It was nearing sunrise when they escaped the witch’s trap and the warm daylight is a welcome feeling to what had been the longest nights of Chanyeol’s existence, though they both couldn’t sleep, too upset of their situation and each nursing their wounds. The view of the rolling hills and clear blue lakes passing beneath them would’ve been beautiful if only they had a way off of the cloud.

“I admit I did make a mess of everything,” Chanyeol says after a while. “For that, I apologize.”

The star doesn’t answer, laying on the cloud half-submerged with his eyes closed, soft mist curling over the white robe he was still wearing from the witch-queen. Chanyeol nearly sighs for he thought the sleeping star didn’t hear him speak. “You saved my life yesterday, didn’t you?”

“I believe so.”

The star groans and rises to lean on his elbows to glare at Chanyeol. “I hate you. I hate you for capturing me. I hate you for making me walk on my broken leg. I hate that you think you can just claim me as a prize for your lover, but I hate you now most of all.” 

It was to be expected, Chanyeol thinks but the last one confuses him. He stretches the fingers of his burned hand and feels grateful for the cooling blanket of the cloud. “Why?”

“You saved me, and by the laws of my people, I am bound to you. Wherever you go, I must go.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol perks his head up. “Well that’s good, isn’t it?”

“I’d rather cut off my tongue,” the star says seriously.

“I’m not that bad,” Chanyeol assures him, turning to face the star’s surly expression. “If you get to know me I’m not that bad. I’ll say it again, I apologize for everything. The chaining, the forcing...all of it. I deeply and truly regret it.” He hopes the star can see his sincerity but the ugly look he is being given will not discourage him. 

So he scoots closer to the star while the latter tries to edge away except his broken leg prevents him from doing so. 

“Perhaps we can start over,” Chanyeol smiles and holds out his other good hand. “I’m Chanyeol Park, pleased to meet you.”

“Oh, Mother Moon help me!” wails the star. “I’d sooner kiss the arse of an--”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you would,” says Chanyeol, not the most eager to listen until the end of the star’s sentence. “My name is Chanyeol Park. I’m glad to make your acquaintance.”

The star raises a thick eyebrow, dark like the roots of his blonde hair, and stares unimpressed at him. Blue eyes to brown eyes, as if he’s daring Chanyeol to quit, that his efforts are foolish. The air on the cloud is thin and the melodious chirping of flying birds that swoop over them unusually close as Chanyeol waits, hoping no daring bird defecates on his extended hand.

“Well?”

The star sighs, wide shoulders slumping as if the will to fight has left every part of his body. “What great big joke this is. Whither thou goest, there I must go. Even if whither goest kills me in the endeth.” He fully sits up and stares into the far-off mountains, the silver streams, and speckles of villages and towns before he raises a hand to briefly touch Chanyeol’s. “I am called Baekhyun, for I was an evening star.”

“So that was you! When I was wondering where it had gone, it was you all along!” Chanyeol exclaims, relieved and content to finally have the star’s name. “That’s why you were so upset about it!”

“You’re a cockeyed loony and a half.”

Chanyeol ignores him to make way for a chuckle. “What a pair we make. Broken leg and burnt hand.”

“Let me see your hand?” He presents the star his ruined palm and a bit of his forearm where the flames ate the fabric of his coat and shirt, raw and still slightly swollen flesh, charred bits of skin and blisters on his knuckles. “Does it hurt?”

“Quite a lot.”

“Good.”

“You know, this hand got hurt because it saved you from being killed by a mad woman,” Chanyeol says and the star, Baekhyun, for the life of him looks away, almost guiltily. “I left my rucksack at the inn too. We have no provisions or tools, no way of getting off this cloud. Certainly, it can’t get worse than this.”

As if tempting fate, at his words there came a loud crack in the sky, it was a low rumble of thunder as if Zeus himself heard Chanyeol and decided to play a little on their fates. When they look ahead they see in the direction of the incoming wind, are dark rain clouds rolling swiftly towards them. In a few moments, they were once again showered with a curtain of water.

“You just had to say something,” Baekhyun comments in a flat voice.

“Well,” Chanyeol shrugs, his wet hair coming down his eyes. “I’ve come to the conclusion that the weather is unpredictable in Faerie.”

“We’ll catch a sickness at this rate!” says Baekhyun, hugging himself to ward off the increasing chill. It quickly became colder up in the sky in a storm, the winds mightier and the rain more relentless that they had to shout in order to be heard.

“Not like there’s anything more we can do!”

“You saved me only for us to die on a fucking cloud! At least we could’ve ended in a more impressive manner killed by a mad woman.”

“This is not the time to be joking!” yells Chanyeol.

“I am not joking!” Baekhyun yells back, his voice though not as deep as the timbre in Chanyeol’s, had a force and candor that it echoes all around them.

“Well, you sound like it!”

“Anyone down there?” yells a voice from above.

The both of them exchange astonished glances at each other before raising their eyes to the tall dark clouds that formed some feet higher than they were. Chanyeol never thought in his life he would see a flying ship, but there it was. Dark in the shadows of the storm, its hull glistening from rainwater when spiders of light crashed into the sky; figures peer down at them under hooded cloaks and voices resonate through the winds.

“Ahoy! Anyone in need of assistance?”

At a loss, it takes a few raindrops to hit Chanyeol’s eyes from looking up that he responds with an eager. “Yes! My hand is injured and my companion broke his leg. We can’t get on the ship on our own!”

“Nothing to it, laddie,” assures a jolly voice despite the somber weather. “Line her up!” Then there was a deep groaning noise like that of a beast, but in this case, a massive airborne ship as it’s rudders twist so that it makes a quick roundabout on a cloud Chanyeol and the star were on until the railing is level with Chanyeol’s torso.

“A hand?” one of the burly men offers a tattooed forearm to Chanyeol. He wears a vest ripped at the armholes, bald but with unusually kind eyes and a dimpled smile just like Chanyeol’s.

“Um, my friend…?” he gestures to Baekhyun resting helplessly amidst the fluff of the clouds, eyes wide staring at the unlikely group of people bustling on the ship to ready for their boarding, nervous once again, Chanyeol can now tell by the set of his jaw, if they can trust them. 

“Ah that. Kulah! The pretty one needs lifting!” The bald man firmly holds Chanyeol’s outstretched, unburnt hand and assists him over the railing and on the ship. But Chanyeol turns back quickly to see a small man, smaller than Baekhyun too, but with muscular arms like the burly man and light on his feet. He effortlessly hops off the railing and approaches Baekhyun cautiously.

“You are going to carry me in your arms like a damsel, aren’t you?” the star flatly asks, already knowing the answer but hopes for a different outcome.

“That’s the plan.”

Baekhyun sighs and relents. “I suppose that can’t be helped.” 

“I suppose,” agrees Kulah and to Chanyeol’s shock that such a short man could easily hoist Baekhyun, making Chanyeol feel that his thin arms definitely wasn’t enough to help the star walk much less lift him safely aboard.

“Also I’m not pretty,” bites Baekhyun sourly, arms crossed and a small pout to his upper lip.

“Aye, that you are not.” And Kulah deposits the star gently on a floor where the crew begins to circle them curiously but with no contempt.

“Captain! Get the captain!” they shout, and the rest of the crew rush about as they begin to hoist the sails once more and the ship moves from the cloud that is no longer there and set off into the dark skies,

They were an unusual group of people, all in cloaks to protect them from the rain but that even couldn’t hide their differences. Male and female, all various shapes and sizes and colors and races. Chanyeol could spot three tiny men, one man with grey skin, one woman with one eye in the center of her head, one little boy whose lower half of a brown goat, another little girl with pointed ears and nose of a cat holding the hand of an older woman with the same features.

“What is going on here?” booms the smooth voice of a man also beneath a cloak. Chanyeol could see that he seems quite young, big expressive eyes and full lips. He isn’t very tall nor is he very muscular like some of his men, but they parted for him respectfully and he stands like a king as he stares down at Chanyeol and Baekhyun getting soaked in the rain.

“Civilians, sir.” answers the burly tattooed man. He stands importantly next to the young captain. “They got themselves trapped on a fading nimbus.”

“How I wonder.” muses the captain. “Have them be taken to my quarters for questioning, and you lazy fools get back to work! Catch some lightning while the storm is young!” He orders and the crew grumbles but obediently scurry off.

Chanyeol follows the ship’s odd captain who is more than a foot shorter than he was, even shorter than Baekhyun, watching the top of his closely cropped head of hair as they weave through the dimly lit corridors of the ship’s living quarters.

He has a gait about him that both awkward and confident, his posture slightly slouched that Chanyeol reckons is due to peering over maps and most probably reading books if the squinting of his eyes is an indication of the beginnings of a failing eyesight, and the small telescope tucked in his belt. Baekhyun could be heard whining and grumbling as his usual self behind him and he dares not look back. He knows he will receive nothing but the sharpest of glares from pale blue eyes and a stern expression from the nimble man named Kulah who saved the star from the receding cloud they were on; he’s sure the man is not of the worst sort there is out there but his face and Chanyeol means no offense, could make a babe cry.

They surely make quite an interesting sight: an invalid youth whose light is faintly flickering for he is being carried by a man smaller in stature than he was and more muscled.  
Baekhyun has a frail built to him as well, if not for his broad shoulders.

The captain opens the last door they come upon and reveals a wide stately room with a grand bed and luxurious drapes, a dining table laden with varying scrolls and parchments of maps and letters, thick Persian carpets that cover the floorboards and tall windows, and Chanyeol could see the shower of rain and the claps of lightning. A fireplace keeps the room warm as the captain removes his coat and throws it on a nearby chair before he sits by his desk, shuffling the stack of papers which he then arranges as Chanyeol stands at a loss by the bed where Kulah has deposited Baekhyun to sit.

The captain clears his throat and they all turn their attention to him. Kulah stands by the door, either to wait for any further orders, to guard or something more sinister, Chanyeol doesn’t dwell on it.

“First of all, if I were to be sure you are not here to rob me blind or murder my crew in their sleep, and if you are who I think you are,” The captain is looking at Chanyeol with calculating eyes and he feels moisture pool at the nape of his neck. “Where are you from?”

Chanyeol was just about to answer honestly but he remembers the warning of the little hairy man; of the vile intentions some would dare to try if knowledge of a star came to their willing ears, of how that warning was confirmed by their near death in the clutches of a blood-thirsty witch.

And he is more than determined to reach home to Krystal now that the star has agreed to cooperate, he sets his resolve and answers with every ounce of confidence could muster. 

“From behind me.”

There is a gleam of realization in the captain’s eyes. “And where are you headed?” 

“In front of me.”

Now the captain smirks and nods to Kulah who straightens at attention. “Go find some towels so these fools can dry off, and tell Skinner to fetch a new set of clothes for the tall one—oh and we would need Margo for their wounds. Hop to it!”

As per captain’s orders, Kulah leaves and said captain strides to an ornate armoire on the opposite side of the room to open it and sorts through a few garments. The two captives could only watch, befuddled as to whether the situation is good or bad.

“I will not have clothes big enough for you but your short friend and I might have similar measurements.” He throws a pair of trousers in the general direction of the bed and a silk shirt. “Hmm, I do have spare boots but they might be a tight fit.” The captain walks to stand by Baekhyun on the bed and drops the leather boots with a loud thunk at Baekhyun’s feet.

But the star peers suspiciously. “Why are you doing this? Let us leave!” 

Chanyeol opens his mouth but the captain speaks first. “In the rain in the middle of the sky so you can fall to your deaths? I’d give you the pleasure.” He returns to his desk, his tone impatient and behind him, Baekhyun glowers with a pinched face.

“I’d stay quiet, little man and accept kindness when it’s given.” With impeccable timing, Kulah returns with an armful of towels and he is being followed by two members of the strange crew. Skinner it seems is the grey man carrying what must be Chanyeol’s new garments, and Margo, a plump woman with a single eye on her brow. They hand over the towels to the soaked pair and Chanyeol is glad to have the clamminess of the rain be dried from his skin and hair.

“I don’t need your kindness. I didn’t ask for it.” Baekhyun growls, accepting the towel Margo offers him and furiously rubs on his damp hair.

“Ah, shame. Now—mutant boy!” The captain calls and everyone stares around until their eyes land on Chanyeol.

“Me?” He asks, pointing to himself.

“Who else here is abnormally tall and has strange ears other than yourself? Skinner has your clothes. Go to him.” The captain orders and Chanyeol, despite himself and his confusion of the proceedings, obey as immediately as the ship’s crew. Something about his tone and the look in his wide eyes that the captain demanded respect.

Unsurely, he goes to the grey-skinned man named Skinner, although his skin was so smooth and clear like his bald head that it almost looks silver in the firelight. He had sharp ears, yellow irises, and pointed teeth.

Chanyeol clutches his drenched towel. “Uh…I’m Chanyeol?”

“Skinner,” He says, voice like molten lava on rock. “Here are your garments.” They were neatly folded and came with a pair of boots just like Baekhyun’s in a larger foot size. “You might find them a bit loose but that will help with movement as I am sure the captain will be expecting your help on the ship for the duration of your stay.”

“Yes, I understand.” murmurs Chanyeol as he awkwardly changes in a tucked corner of the room. His pale, skinny legs could is still in plain sight as he pulls on his new trousers; he could feel his whole head, ears, neck, and chest are red in embarrassment. Skinner doesn’t look away either, he stares without a word and reaction when Chanyeol strips down, keen and observant.

“I see you’re not entirely human yourself, Chanyeol.”

He stumbles in his new boots at the absurd comment of a silvery grey man. “I’m not entirely sure what you mean.”

“You are a Halfling, as I am. Fae-touched. One mortal parent and one magical.”

Chanyeol gulps as he buttons his new silk shirt, taking care to pocket the glass snowdrop that somehow survived out of all his belongings that are now lost in Faerie. He thinks of his father Taesuk and how there was certainly nothing magical about him that could qualify Chanyeol as a Halfling.

“I…I still don’t understand.” He stares down at himself, at his arms and legs now strangely liberated in loose fitting clothes, somehow imagining them to look different. 

“I am part goblin and your other part lad, the part that isn’t human, I am not certain,” says Skinner and that makes Chanyeol shiver at the prospect of being something else than mortal.

They gather near the bed to where Baekhyun who is now wearing his silk blue shirt and his lower half covered in blankets to keep his modesty. Margo is massaging her palms along his broken leg and the star groans at the dull pain before she spreads along his skin a pink salve.

“You may both take your leave,” voices the captain at his two waiting men. “We can manage without you now. Skinner, I trust you to supervise the catch outside.” and Skinner nods silently before the two odd men stomp out of the room. “Margo, I suggest you take a look at those burns before they worsen.”

Margo smilingly pats Baekhyun’s leg gently before patting the space beside her on the bed for Chanyeol to sit. He gives her his left hand, the one that is covered in raw burns and he hisses at the sting of her touch.

The captain strides over to his disorganized dining table and makes to pour himself a mug of what Chanyeol assumes could be ale or wine. The situation makes him vastly uncomfortable. The encounter with the witch still fresh in his mind and he is all too wary of any kind gesture or soft-spoken words, though the captain provided neither. His words were harsh, yet true; his actions, intimidating yet practical and of no pretense. He willingly gave them clothes and now, Baekhyun with his leg wrapped and with a brand new splint; and Chanyeol, as he sits by the bed with the kindly woman Margo, the one that he saw with a single eye in the middle of her brow, as she cleanses the burns on one side of his hand with a clean cloth soaked in warm water before dabbing a cream-like substance from a small jar that was cool to the skin. 

He supposes he could allow a bit of trust to these people as gratitude, but he will not be fooled another time. For a brief moment, he shares a glance with Baekhyun, a moment they first share, a camaraderie now that they had their truce, that if perchance something goes wrong now if they can’t charm their way through, they will fight it together with whatever dumb persistence they’ve got left.

“I realize I haven’t introduced myself, how rude of me,” The captain says, setting down his drink and his wide eyes with the whites more prominent than the browns of his irises, stares intently at them. “I am Captain Do. You are aboard the Perdita on its virgin expedition of lightning hunting.” 

“Lightning?” wonders Chanyeol, because now that he thinks about it, he could hear the yells of the crew, unafraid as thunder claps and booms outside. “Why would you hunt lightning?”

“There are many uses of lightning. Combustion, firepower, fuel…to be able to effortlessly fly a magnificent ship like this.” Captain Do explains with a grin.

“Virgin expedition?” Baekhyun asks. “Does that mean this is your first time as captain?”

Chanyeol frowns, having not known any prior knowledge about ships and sailing before, but Baekhyun has had years watching Earth, and so he doesn’t question his sudden interest.

“Yes, I inherited this from my father, the great Captain Shakespeare, who is a master lightning catcher and has made his fortune and name from this trade alone.” Captain Do says, his expression serious as he runs a hand across the different maps and scrolls on the tabletop. “I intend to follow in his path and make him proud, but I will do it without his help for I will prove my worth.”

“Where is your old man now?” Baekhyun asks and the captain shrugs.

“Like how you mentioned it, old and back home.” Captain Do frowns as he turns to Margo who has finished wrapping Chanyeol’s hand, her touch so gentle he felt nothing but the coolness of her salve. “That is enough now. You may leave, Margo. His burns will heal well. Thank you.”

Margo slightly bows before shuffling out of the room, and the two stragglers are left behind in silence watching the captain nurse his drink while perusing over his maps. 

“Now that we are in our privacy,” Captain Do finally says after so long a moment Chanyeol thought his heart might burst out of anticipation. “It would be best you both tell me a little something about yourselves, and why and how you both were on that cloud. Not everyone can do that you know.”

Chanyeol tries to catch Baekhyun’s eye again, hoping he would have a solution to their dilemma but not before the Captain adds. “It is also best you both would refrain from lying to me. I have been very kind; taking you in, giving you clothes, treating your wounds. You wouldn’t be so ungrateful now, would you?”

Baekhyun glares at the captain but says nothing. He gives an all-important “hmph” before raising his nose and turning away rudely. The captain raises one bushy brow and directs his searing gaze to the other living soul in the room.

So Chanyeol gulps. “My—my name Chanyeol Park. I came to Faerie to find a gift for my one true love. Then I found Baekhyun here, broken leg and all, but-but we argued on how we're supposed to go home that my Babylon candle sent us on a cloud.” He presumes he couldn’t lie, but the captain will never know what he chooses not to disclose.

“Hmm, a Babylon candle you say? Those are very rare and very difficult to create, and only a few have the luxury to own them.” The captain hums. “And where is Baekhyun from?”

“He…uh…,” Chanyeol bites his lip and looks at the back of Baekhyun’s blonde head.

“If you can’t tell me, then your dear friend here should have the common courtesy to show to those people who helped him and answer a simple question.” Captain Do growls. 

Baekhyun faces them, eyes wide and nose flaring. “My business is mine and mine alone. I’ve never intended to come here to be abused and mocked by your people. I am grateful for your help but I pick what to say and I say this: fuck off.”

Chanyeol flinches as the captain straightens his back. He understands Baekhyun is only avoiding it be known of his origin lest he perishes at another’s doing but he could never understand how he never does so politely, perhaps manners are different among stars.

Even so, his rudeness might cost them and Chanyeol doesn’t fancy being thrown overboard, but the captain merely chuckles and sips more wine.

“He is a feisty one, a personality I can very well relate to.” Captain Do says. “So, destination wise since you both can’t stay for long on this ship. We will be reaching port at Scaithe’s Ebb. That is only a few miles of Wall; the Perdita will drop you off there and you can be on your merry way. By then your leg would’ve healed.” 

“Heal?’ scoffs Baekhyun. “It’s broken and at most I will have a limp but I will never walk well on two legs ever again.”

“You underestimate or haven’t you heard of a cyclops' healing abilities? Margo is one of the best I’ve seen; your leg and his burns will be in tip-top shape soon enough.” The captain downs his drink and removes his coat before striding to his desk and sitting down. “In the meantime that you will stay here, you may sleep at the vacant room below deck by the mess. It will be loud during the evenings as the men like to drink, but it is clean enough and the bed sturdy.” He gives them a long look. “Surely, you wouldn’t mind sharing?”

They both protest loudly. 

“What in the blazes-?!” Baekhyun curses.

“No, no I’ll sleep on the floor.” Chanyeol defends to the captain.

“Fucking right you will! I’m not sleeping next to you.” Baekhyun snaps. 

“Who said I wanted to sleep next to you?” Chanyeol bites back.

“Enough!” Captain Do commands and Chanyeol shuts his mouth. Baekhyun manages to murmur “Little shits.” and the captain looks at him with murder before clearing his throat.

“I will, of course, not be letting you loiter around. Chanyeol will be helping with the men, double the tasks since your useless friend here cannot walk. Skinner will guide you.” Captain Do declares. “And you,” He points at Baekhyun. “As useless as you are now, Margo will help you practice walking and you will be doing much simpler tasks. Perhaps peel some potatoes in the kitchen or scrub my boots clean.”

“Why you short-legged, piece of—“

“Do I make myself clear?” Captain Do asks, ignoring the holes that Baekhyun is burning through his skull with his eyes. Chanyeol decides he’d be the obedient one for both of their sakes.

“Yes sir,” agrees Chanyeol.

“I will piss on your next bowl of potato stew,” grits Baekhyun.

“Very good, men,” smirks Captain Do. “Now, we hustle.”

In years to come, when Chanyeol is old and grey, he would reminisce his time on the Perdita as one of the rare opportunities he was able to live in the shoes of his storybook heroes and their swashbuckling adventures. The crew, Skinner most of all who acted as his sort of mentor, taught him various tricks and skills as he helped with the sails and the heavy labor. They showed how to speak his way out of a conversation, how to subtly manipulate, how to escape unscathed; Skinner gave him his basic knowledge of survival, how to use the forest as your arsenal and resources when moments such as his lost rucksack might occur. 

Margo, whom Baekhyun has grown to like, will assist him to come up on deck and back down again, letting the muscles in his leg return to their old strength as her magic does its work. Baekhyun wore fewer and fewer bandages and his splint soon disappears. He used to sit and watch as the crew and Chanyeol move about, staring fondly at the night sky into the vastness of the universe.

As for the captain however, he remains as blunt as ever but not without showing Baekhyun and Chanyeol how they harvest lightning and keep them in a copper chest. He also demonstrated how it can be kept in a smaller canister and be blasted out onto any target like a weapon, setting the ship into a frenzy whenever anything is caught on fire. 

Sometimes the days weren’t always so bright and the sky so blue; sometimes the dark clouds loomed over their heads and the winds and rain washed the deck of the ship as the Perdita sails over and under storm clouds in such speed that everyone on board had ropes tied to their waists to prevent them from being blown away. Chanyeol remembers laughing, exhilarated at such a life-threatening event, his hair wet and thin clothes soaked as he tightly gripped his rope. He remembers Baekhyun screaming then laughing once it was over, the previous steel of his blue eyes turns starry as for the first time. 

Once Baekhyun’s leg was well on its way to being fully healed from the many walks and small errands he has done for exercise, Captain Do has taken it upon himself to teach them a bit of sword sparring. “You may never know when a duel is at hand and it is best to be able to defend yourselves.” He would say as he nicks Chanyeol’s wooden practice sword to the floor. As he bends down to retrieve it, the captain lightly kicks him and he topples as Baekhyun loudly guffaws. “Also move swiftly and try not to be distracted.”

For the two weeks before they reach port, Chanyeol and Baekhyun relied on each other more and more. Together they would practice dueling, Baekhyun would help dress Chanyeol’s burns and Chanyeol would help Baekhyun not be a nuisance to the crew with his loose mouth. Together they would watch the seagulls fly along the rails of the ship and help the cook prepare the meals. They would sit together as the crew tell stories at night and sing and dance to the evening sky, and Baekhyun would begin to smile more and hate people less. He would observe, fascinated at the three dwarves do wonders with various precious stones and magical gems; they helped shorten the chain of the golden pendant he is wearing about his hips into a necklace fit to rest comfortably on his throat. At Skinner, as he spoke in a tongue unbeknownst to them to a wild eagle of the sky as he sends it soaring with its great wings before it returned with a couple of dead hares on its beak of which is to become of their hearty meal that evening. 

More than their camaraderie, the star and the farm boy have developed an awkward friendship. From sleeping in pinched silence in their small cabin, Baekhyun tucked on the bed and Chanyeol wrapped in warm sheets on the floor, to talking well into the morning. Chanyeol discovers that Baekhyun was the youngest star of the galaxy and Baekhyun learns of how deeply Chanyeol’s feelings for Krystal goes; Baekhyun tells Chanyeol of how stars only consume light but his time on Earth has taught him to love Man food and Chanyeol tells Baekhyun of his father and their farm, and the village of Wall and his dream of wider fields and higher mountains, of daring quests and new discoveries. 

Chanyeol will always remember the ship named Perdita and how, within its rails, among the sails and clouds, he is slowly shifting from boy to man.

~

“We will reach Scaithe’s Ebb by dawn tomorrow.” Captain Do declares. “The crew and I will only take provisions and leave cargo, and by cargo, I meant the both of you.” He and Chanyeol are speaking privately by the wheel. They both are overlooking the ship, the crew lounging in the afternoon sun and Baekhyun be entertained by the three singing dwarves. “It’s time the Perdita leaves you back on your quest home to Wall; it would be day’s journey more, but you and your friend should make it just fine. Margo has assured me of both of your good health.”

“Thank you. I always seem to say this, but there is not enough for the help you’ve brought us,” says Chanyeol.

The captain stares at him before setting his focus back on the horizon, his hands absentmindedly steering the wheel. “I must admit though, that we are both fortunate. The Perdita to have found you is a fortune in itself. I and many others have been keeping an eye out for you the instance news of your return to Faerie have come around.”

Surprised, Chanyeol asks. “Why? How-how did you come to know about me?”

“Not too loudly. A fellowship of a sort with an interest to your well-being.” Captain Do says. “My father was part of this fellowship and in turn, so is I.”

“Do you happen to know a little hairy man with a bright green coat?”

“Aye,” the captain smirks and before Chanyeol could ask any more, Baekhyun has come up to where they were, beaming brightly from the good laugh he had with the dwarves.

“The cook says he needs our help to prepare for supper,” He says, gazing up at Chanyeol. Sometimes he forgets how small Baekhyun is.

“Also before I forget. You,” Captain Do motions for Baekhyun who shifts his attention to the young captain. “If you are trying to pass other than what you really are, you need to stop yourself from glowing.”

Baekhyun’s pale face become even paler and Chanyeol places a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t fret. I’ve discovered he’s a friend of a friend who has helped me.”

Captain Do nods. “You’re safe here, little star. I’m the only soul on the ship who has connected the signs and I will tell no other of your identity, as my oath to the fellowship” He winks at Chanyeol. “Although, I advise you control your emotions. I’ve noticed you’ve been glowing more brightly as the week goes, more so in the evenings.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do?! I’m a star and that is my job!” Baekhyun exclaims.

“You and I both know it’s more than that, isn’t it?” Captain Do hums and Baekhyun blushes to the roots of his hair, staring at his boots with clenched fists and Chanyeol knows something’s amiss and he will never get an answer out of it.

So he takes Baekhyun’s small hand. “Come, Cook is waiting, is he not?” and he leads them down back on deck and below to the mess by the kitchens under the knowing gaze of the captain.

If anyone else were to see, Baekhyun shone brighter than he did, more than what the captain has mentioned.

~

Scaithe’s Ebb is a town and sky port built into the trunk and branches of a great tree, on a cliff by the rough waves of the Cerulean Sea, so large it could moor a dozen ships and house a hundred dwellings. The Perdita anchored its lines and the two companions get ready to bid their farewells. They were given food and drink, more salve for their wounds, a tinderbox to make fire, and even a bag of coins that Chanyeol protested heavily for; and Captain Do generously give them their very own rapiers that they hung on a belt and scabbard at their waists. Baekhyun gives Margo a warm hug before they descend the ship as the three dwarves sing a goodbye song with their deep voices.

“We will meet again, I am sure.” Captain Do declares. “And by then you will no longer be Chanyeol Park.” 

“Who will I be by then?” Chanyeol asks, shouldering his new rucksack filled with their supplies.

“You will be able to tell me,” Captain Do nods and Chanyeol and Baekhyun wave their final goodbyes before descending the stairs that wind down the trunk of the tree.

It is both a pity and a relief; relief to be on solid ground, where they have a fresh start and more hopes to reach Wall safely, but a pity to leave the wonder to be sailing amongst the clouds on the free-ship Perdita and its disparate crew. They walk West until sundown, the shadow of the tree in their wake and by high noon the next day, its imposing form fades into the horizon.

They walk by the pools that flow inland through the sea, crystal clear and surrounded by bright flowers and inhabited by tiny queer folk dancing among the grass. Baekhyun pauses by the path to observe these little beings and their little village by the blue waters.

“What in the goat’s arse are they?” wonders Baekhyun.

Chanyeol shrugs as a curious tiny fellow flies up to his shoulder and fondly nibbles at his ear. “I cannot say for sure but I reckon they might be skilled at tinkering.” He says as they watch a team of tiny fairies destroy one of the little houses in their merriment. 

“Or mischievous pixies,” Baekhyun says when one of the fairies also hover near his face and instead of nibbling his ear, it places the smallest of kisses on Baekhyun’s rosy cheek. He swats it away. “Annoying, mischievous little gits.”

“Shhh you must not offend them or our clothes will be ripped to shreds,” Chanyeol warns and tries to stop Baekhyun’s flailing arms in an attempt to shoo the pixies off like flies, except they keep giggling, dropping Baby’s Breath sprigs onto Baekhyun’s hair and singing and kissing his cheeks. “Although they seem to like you quite a lot.”

“Can they leave me the bloody hell alone?” Baekhyun snarls, ducking his head and rushes to hide behind Chanyeol whom the pixies don’t fancy as much, and to their surprise, they indeed stopped and Chanyeol is the one that feels offended instead.

The pixies coo melodiously and glide back to their little houses on their dragonfly wings as the star continues to curse his annoyance and Chanyeol attempts to make a friend of a tiny blue haired pixie that only screams at him.

They travel west towards the direction of Wall along the dusty path, sleeping beneath trees and hedgerows, eating whatever meal their trusty rucksack could provide and if not, scouted for nuts and berries and fruit, and with the new skills they learned hunted fish and set traps to catch unassuming rabbits to be grilled on a stake. Occasionally they would meet people and other odd folks on the road setting about their wanderings; staying for lodging and food in farms and towns, paying their due with little trinkets from their rucksack or sometimes, Chanyeol citing his poems.

They see strange sights and creatures that Chanyeol has only ever heard from town gossip and the stories children tell to give them a bit of a scare, but he finds most of them to be a farce as not every creature they meet spites their approach and is merely misunderstood for their desire to be discreet. He thinks of the merman they saw when they passed near the sea by the edge of a cliff, peculiar in its multicolored tail, fins on its arms and its back. They had said hello where they received a cautious reply and baring of sharp teeth; funnily enough, this merman was a terrible singer when the star had asked to sing a song together. He thinks of how scared they both were when they the cave they stopped for the night was inhabited by a dragon, who nonetheless had an aversion to meat and had the manners of an obedient dog.

There was the time they were invited inside the magnificent palace of two married elves who happened to have a celebration for the rising of a particular constellation in the sky that Baekhyun has personally met and of whom Chanyeol did not remember one word, but he did remember how the palace had vanished when they left its gates and where it stood was a weeping willow tree. Together they fought abducting goblins and giant eagles and tricked an evil shapeshifter into giving them food from Baekhyun’s quick-wit and endless rambling.

One night as they lay amongst the grass, Baekhyun teaches Chanyeol of all the names of the constellations and the galaxies that after laughing at Chanyeol’s incompetence to memorize anything other than poems, Baekhyun sings. About his home, about the vastness of space, about wonders beyond and the beauty of Earth from above. Chanyeol’s heart fills with and a sense of peace at Baekhyun’s voice, he feels smaller and bigger, as if the universe has come into focus and time and existence made sense.

After a while when it ended with Baekhyun’s voice fading into the eve, Chanyeol claps to thank him. “That was beautiful.”

Despite himself, the star smiles a tiny smile, a tilt in the corner of his lips, eyes vaguely sparkling. “Thank you… I-I guess I never felt like singing before. Not until now.”

“You have a lovely voice.”

Baekhyun smiles fully this time, his whole face lighting up in delight. “My brothers and sisters and I used to sing a lot with our Mother the moon. We sing about creation, about the joys of shining and the loneliness we feel.”

Chanyeol looks down. “I’m still sorry for taking you away from all of that.”

“It wasn’t your fault I crashed, but now I’m glad it was in Faerie and I’m glad it was you who found me…even if you are an idiot sometimes.”

“Thank you,” says Chanyeol, laughing.

Baekhyun laughs too, but then he sighs, gazing at the twinkling stars.

~

The next town is still miles more away from Wall and though Chanyeol miraculously hasn’t heard one word of complaint about the distance from Baekhyun as they walk from sunrise to sundown, taking rests beneath the shades of trees every now and then, he is worried for their depleting food supply and is frustrated how the road seems to get longer and the urge to reach the end of this journey eats away at his optimism. 

“Look, a caravan!” Baekhyun points afar and as if a mirage and dream, there is a brightly painted caravan tethered to two grazing horses parked by the road. Smoke seem to be puffing from the roof but Chanyeol doesn’t see a chimney nor has he ever seen a gypsy caravan with a chimney, but smoke continues to rise up into the sky like it came from a burning furnace. A pretty, blue bird sits on its perch by the small door of the caravan, tweeting melodiously soft as it saw them approach.

“Perhaps we can hitch a ride to Wall?” suggests Baekhyun. “It would be a whole lot faster than walking, for sure.”

“But we know not who might be inside,” hisses Chanyeol. “We cannot be certain if the driver might be a threat.”

“I say it should be fine,” says Baekhyun. “The bird seems friendly enough.” The said bird chirrups like a bell being blown in the wind, as if it understood what was said. 

“The bird is not the driver of the caravan.” 

“I am aware. I merely state it looked harmless.”

Chanyeol sighs, with that he agrees. The bird has rich blue feathers that shift in the light and a white plume on its head like a crown, its long tail feathers trail like a cape. It is indeed a magnificent creature and Chanyeol gives in to the urge to softly caress with his fingers the soft feathers of its head; the pretty bird stayed still as he did so, staring at him with its bright black eyes and chirping quite daintily. He belatedly notices the chain that is wound on its leg and it leads back inside the caravan. It looks very similar to the chain the little man gave him.

But an invisible force hits him in the face so forcefully that he nearly fell and Baekhyun yells in alarm for he heard the sound of impact. There is furious ruffling in the woods next to the road and an elderly woman shuffles out, shrieking as her stringy carrot-hair whip about her aged, leathery face.

“Intruder!” she squawks in a voice as wrinkly as her hands. “I will turn you into a beetle and pull your legs out one by one then feed you to the vultures!”

“Apologies but we weren’t intruding nor attempting to do any of the sort,” Chanyeol told the old woman who barely reaches his chest. “We were just admiring your pet bird.”

She only eyes him suspiciously. “May it be half a lie or half a truth to what you are saying, it would be wise for you to leave.”

“Actually, we were hoping you could give us ride to Wall,” says Baekhyun, and Chanyeol doesn’t think twice of nodding his head, anything to get out of being turned into a beetle.

“Well, what are you dumbly staring about and nodding for? I said, leave.” The old woman says firmly, almost a snarl and revealing her yellowed front teeth.

Chanyeol starts. “Oh. Um,” he and Baekhyun share a bewildered look as the crone blatantly ignored Baekhyun. “We ask if we could ride with you on your caravan to Wall.”

“Ride eh? I’m afraid I do not take in passengers,” the crone says. “Most especially to strange, lone, young lads out in the woods.” She sniffs and spits on the ground. “Unless you have something you can barter with for your transport.”

“Something…?” Chanyeol drops his rucksack, searching in vain amongst their dried meats and stale loaves of bread, their plain cutting knife, and empty wineskins. Surely you can’t barter a tinderbox? 

But the musical chirping of the bluebird reminds him of a keepsake from home that remained by his side, even when all his belongings from Wall were lost and destroyed to Faerie. He digs out the glass snowdrop from his pocket, the flower whistling a tune in the hair like a tiny bell, the white petals so finely made it seems as if it had been plucked from the meadows that very morning.

“I suppose this wouldn’t be enough?” He reveals the snowdrop and the crone’s dull, old face reddens as her heady eyes focus on the glass flower.

“Where did you get that? That was once mine!” she bellows with her shrill voice and with her hands curled like claws, she rushes for Chanyeol. “Thief! Thief!”

With a renewed reflex he owes to the crew in the Perdita, Chanyeol draws his rapier before the woman could get any closer, pointing the sharp end at the center of her chest. His large hands close gently around the snowdrop and concealing it from view.

“You rotting bitch!” Baekhyun snaps and stomps toward the woman but Chanyeol stops him.

“I now realize my deep attachment to this flower,” Chanyeol says aloud. “My father gave this to me when I began my journey. Surely it must’ve been of great meaning and importance to him as well. With it, I have been very fortunate in my travels and I would not wish to part with the luck it has brought me. It would be better instead that I keep it and we will now leave you alone.

“I vastly apologize,” chuckles the woman nervously, although the greed in her eyes still focuses on the snowdrop. “And let’s not be rash, shall we? If you’d like, we can arrange a deal.” 

“Then I barter it for safe passage to Wall. Food and lodging, and that no harm may come to me and my companion until we reach our destination; may it be from you or from anyone you command, directly or indirectly,” says Chanyeol.

The old woman clucks her tongue. “I will take you to Wall and I swear on my honor and true name no harm will come upon your head as we travel.”

Chanyeol is silent and looks to Baekhyun for confirmation. Baekhyun has this expression and he knows what the other meant in an instant. That the star trusts Chanyeol with whatever decision he makes and he will follow. 

And it was a tricky decision. He certainly doesn’t trust the woman, given the intense desire in her crusty eyes when they land on the snowdrop and from her brash actions, he presumes that she could be capable of going back on her word. 

“I am still not convinced of your bargain, madam,” Chanyeol tells her and the blue bird chirps and hops on her perch as if it agrees with him. The chain attached to its legs lightly clinking as it hits the side of a caravan.

“I say we shove her deal up her arse. She’s obviously a lying and evil hag.” Baekhyun growls, his blue eyes now dark as the ocean depths. “Look at how she couldn’t even set the poor bird free!”

Once again Baekhyun is ignored and unacknowledged. The woman only holds out her palm in a position of an oath. “I swear, that you will arrive at Wall in the exact same condition as you are now.” She says and Chanyeol has to content himself.

“Very well.” He agrees and the woman cackles, then crudely spitting on the grass. 

“Now you, laddie.” And Chanyeol follows, yet almost gagging, at the image of his saliva landing on hers. 

The crone brings out a foot covered in a dusty boot and steps on their spittle to rub them together. “Now anyone would know that is a simple binding spell. The deal is final and true. Give me the flower.” She demands, her irises wide in her eagerness, her hunger will now be quenched.

Chanyeol reluctantly offers the snowdrop, thinking if a better deal could have been made but the woman has snatched the flower in her grubby hands. His father’s flower now in the possession of a grinning crone, her eyes shining with mad glee 

“Do you have any idea, young man, of what it is that you were keeping in your pocket?” The crone is breathless in her excitement.

“A glass…flower?”

She hacks out a huge, throaty cackle Chanyeol is afraid she could choke herself and he wouldn’t be very fond of their deal gone wrong, but the woman composes herself in time.

“A thing of power. In the right hands, it is capable of doing many wonders.” She beholds the flower in the air, letting the midday sun reflect different shapes of light into their eyes. “Such as this.” She lightly touches it to Chanyeol’s forehead.

Chanyeol’s vision becomes hazy and dark, and he feels the strangest of sensations coursing through his veins. It is neither pleasant nor unpleasant but so unfamiliar as if his blood has thinned and his heart started to beat twice as fast than it previously did; Baekhyun, the woman, and her caravan begin to grow larger, like giants and the world so distorted, enormous and suffocating.

There comes a slow, booming laugh and another shrill sound that hurt Chanyeol’s ears and a pair of gigantic hands pick him up from gently and the old crone’s massive leathery face peer closely at him.

“You bitch! You filthy, stinky, pug-faced old hag!” Baekhyun screams and tries to slap the old crone but an unseen force prevents him from doing so. One moment he thinks his hands would smack the hag in her ugly maw, the next he is aiming for a different direction. He is breathing heavily due to his efforts but it seems the crone couldn’t see or hear him, or feel him for that matter.

“There. Now you will shut your pie hole on the way to Wall.” The old crone places the shaking mouse into her pocket and shuffles to her caravan. The interior is dark and filled with bits and bobs and containers and shelves dried flowers hanging from the roof. There is but one small bed at the back with a small window and tattered curtains; a long desk was built on one side where the crone puts down the snowdrop and bends down to pull a small cage from the clutter on the floor.

She places the small mouse, along with a bowl of nuts and dried berries, inside the cage of which he hangs on a chain in the middle of the caravan. “See? Safe. Food. Lodging. I kept my word.” And makes way to sit on the driver’s seat. 

Baekhyun is sat on the crone’s unmade bed, having watched the proceedings helplessly but not without cursing the woman as loud as he can. “I will piss in your soup bowl and spit on your food. I will take Chanyeol’s small stools and drop them inside your clothes if you don’t turn him back soon.” He threatens.

But the woman does not reply as he expected, for she took up the reins and tugs on her horses and start to trot at an even pace. The bright blue bird hops from its perch and sits beside her mistress, chirping curiously.

“Aye, I will honor our bargain.” The crone says as if in reply. “He will return to normal once I have completed my end of the deal. “And she chuckles. “My but a finer flower that idiot lad has brought me than the one you gave to that good-for-nothing farm boy nineteen years ago.” She clucks and shakes the reins, the horses clicking and clacking through the forest.

And so thus how was the long weeks spent in that tiny space in the caravan. Baekhyun would sleep as the crone drives and sits outside to watch the stars at night and sing to the Moon when nightfall arises. Sometimes the hag’s bluebird would sit beside him, twittering as he speaks as if it understood every word he was saying. Sometimes he sings and talks to Chanyeol the Mouse too, and feed him nuts and take him out of his cage to stroke his fur and calm his beating heart when the hag is outside. He had to source his own food and water, from the bounty of the forest fruits and the pieces of meat from the hag’s roast that the bluebird would sneak into his hands and from the free-flowing springs they would pass by. Never has the star worked so hard for himself and most importantly to keep the tiny Chanyeol alive.

But he is adorable, Baekhyun thinks. Soft fur and tiny paws scratching his tiny muzzle; big, sleepy brown eyes stare at Baekhyun as he sings as gently as he could to not scare the mouse. Will Chanyeol remember or if his own consciousness is lost within the tiny brain of the mouse, Baekhyun may never know; as one day, staring into the cage after days of speaking to no one, he begins to be honest.

“You know,” He starts and the mouse’s tiny (yet still large enough) ears perk up. “I sort of miss you.” Then he shakes the shiver of gooseflesh that creeps on his skin at his words. “But I’ll never tell that to Chanyeol the Human. He’s too daft and he’ll probably misinterpret it…as he does with everything.” He sticks a slender finger inside the cage to lightly scratch the mouse’s small head. “I could be telling the truth and he’ll think I’m lying.”

“Are you still Chanyeol? Because if you are or if you aren’t, I’ll tell you this. My heart is no longer mine. It feels like it yearns to burst out of my chest that it hurts.” Baekhyun sighs, lying back on the bed and staring at the swaying dead petals looped together on a piece of twine. “I have never felt love before, have only seen it in your world. Have always wanted it, have always sung for it.” He shakes his head. “Didn’t think it would be for someone who loved somebody else.”

He shifts, head resting on his arm. “I wouldn’t even ask for anything; no gift, no proof of devotion, no great feats of heroism and bravery…” He looks to the mouse who is sniffing the corner of his cage, not knowing if the soul of a young man within could even hear him. “Just that I be loved in return.”

~

The caravan meandered its way to Diggory Dyke, the last town before Wall which is about a mile away. The sun is slowly making its descent behind the distant mountains, bathing the world in liquid gold and burning crimson as the horses clopped through the busy town of Diggory Dyke. The townsfolk are preparing for the nighttime market in the nearby meadow wall and the streets are bustling despite the creeping darkness. 

The old crone reins her horses to stop by a roundabout where the calming sound of a fountain fills their ears, pleasant in the cacophony of noise. The roundabout opens to the path that leads to the meadow, where merchants and different folk from Beyond the Wall begin to set up their bright stalls and light up their torches. 

Baekhyun startles from his recline on the bed when the hag enters her caravan and busies herself with unfastening the chain of the Chanyeol the Mouse’s cage from its hook on the roof. He closely follows at her heels when she exits and observes as she places the cage on the dusty earth and remove the snoozing mouse from his tiny nest of dried hay that Baekhyun made and stole from the horses’ feedbag when they previously stopped to rest by a stream and by an oddly shaped boulder that resembled a bear. There is left a small likeness of the mouse on the ball of hay when he squeaks as the bony hands of the crone disturb him from his doze; he blinks watery brown eyes at the fading sunset and vibrates in fear.

“Out you go. The Wall is right there just as I promised.” She reaches into her apron to reveal a glass bluebell and lightly touches the violet petals to the shivering rodent. 

And in reverse, Chanyeol now rises on his feet, taller than his previous form and the crone is now barely higher than his chest. He is still in a haze, eye heavy with sleep; limbs heavy and tingling with returned feeling. He runs a hand through his hair as he stumbles. “You conniving, evil witch!” He begins to say before he sways and Baekhyun rushes to support him.

The crone notices nothing strange for the star has long figured that the hag has in no way of perceiving that he exists. “Save your strength, boy. I got you here in the same condition as you were before; food and lodging just as we bargained for that snowdrop.” She spits on the ground. “You’d do well be grateful.”

Chanyeol inhales deeply, both to calm his anger and for his vision and balance to return. Then he grabs Baekhyun’s hand and tugs him away from the caravan.

“Are you hurt?” He asks as they pause a few yards away, placing his hands on Baekhyun’s shoulders to steady him and to see him. 

“No.” The star answers. “That bitch didn’t even know I was there. She couldn’t hear me nor see me nor had the slightest inclination that an invisible man is in her caravan. Isn’t that odd? What a daft, fat, old cow.” 

The crone has her remarkable bluebird in her hands as well and touched the glass flower on its plumed head. There flows a deep blue smoke, as blue as the bird’s feathers, it shifted into shape and became a woman, with deep curling hair and ears that pointed at the tip that peek from her thick tresses. The fae-woman steals a glance at Chanyeol, one with violet-eyes that struck him, as if he knew her but he doesn’t. She gave him a look as if she longs to say something but turns away as her mistress snaps for her attention.

“Poor thing, so that is her true form,” Baekhyun says. “Her chain is still there. That heartless hag.” He hisses and they watch as the fae-woman goes to do her mistress’s bidding, the chain around her ankle keeping her captive, even as it extends to how far she goes.

“I agree, but there is nothing we can do to help unless we wish to be cursed and one that doesn’t end as well as mine,” Chanyeol says this sarcastically. He is grateful they are both safe, but he still wishes it weren’t at a price where he had to be transformed into a creature that lived on nuts and berries. Chanyeol could still taste them on his tongue. 

“So where is Wall?” asks Baekhyun, tired and definitely not eager to leave Faerie so soon. 

And like always, Chanyeol points; past the meadow with the multicolored stalls and tents, past a strip of woodland. “Beyond there, is the gap between the wall. Where home is…where Krystal is.”

The star is silent and as he looks around to distract himself, Chanyeol thinks he may have seen a glistening in Baekhyun’s eyes, but it was soon lost in that familiar fierce glare he hasn’t seen in weeks. 

“Well?” The star urges impatiently. “Are we going or are we not?”

Chanyeol mulls it over. It is a mile away, a long walk and by then they would’ve reached the wall past suppertime. He is tired and famished having lived on critter feed and he badly needs a soak in warm water, and a tad bit hesitant to have this wonder of an adventure in Faerie, these dreamlike encounters, and wonders, to end just like that.

“Let us find an inn to rest for the night,” Chanyeol announces. “Let us feast and drink in merriment for the adventure concludes here.” He hopes his smile is genuine to Baekhyun. “Let us savor the moment while it lasts.”

“As you wish.” The star breathes a huff and stomps off, head high and Chanyeol chuckles as he follows him. 

They manage to find a spare room in one of the floors of an inn so aptly named The Mighty Mouse on one of the less crowded streets. How they did, with the number of visitors and traders that hail from lands beyond to participate in the evening market, inns bursting with guests and households opening their doors to strangers for a shilling or two. But after days of sleeping in underbrushes, caves and hollows of trees and the rank bedcovers of the old hag (and for Chanyeol’s case, a ball of hay), they are granted a luxury for the price of three florins from the bag of coins from the Perdita.

It wasn’t the biggest, but it has a bed with clean sheets that Baekhyun couldn’t be happier about, a fireplace that has seen better days but could very well keep them warm at night, an old armoire and a metal tub that Chanyeol eyes with interest. Their window faces the cobbled street outside and they could hear the muffled noise of people talking and shouting and the sound of their horses and carriages rolling through town.

Chanyeol leaves their almost empty rucksack on the bed and they both wash their sweaty faces on the wash basin before heading to supper downstairs. The hostess serves them hot bowls of meat stew and fried bread and a bottle of rum poured in metal cups that Baekhyun peers curiously over and Chanyeol supposes that the star has never tasted the good spirits of a pub. He laughingly watches Baekhyun take the first sip and nearly chokes on his spoon at the offended expression his companion made as if the liquor personally insulted him.

“The taste improves the more you consume it,” Chanyeol assures him and Baekhyun could only scrunch his cute, button nose.

“I doubt it,” Baekhyun flatly says. “But this makes it better.” He points to his stew if which he eats with gusto.

“Aye,” Chanyeol agrees. “The best meat stew I’ve had in a long time.”

They are sat quite close to the bar and beside a table of singing men that was oddly reminiscent of the night before left for Faerie, but this time he is no longer a solitary soul nursing his inner wounds. He watches Baekhyun finish his stew, pink lips puckering to blow off the steam, rosy cheeks puff as he chews carefully and his shining eyes, eyes the softest shade of blue, sparkle as he savors his meal, in the light of the torches, Baekhyun’s blonde hair became weaves of gold. As pretty as he was, Chanyeol doesn’t fail to note the wideness of his shoulders, the sharpness of his jaw, that proud chin.

Baekhyun looks better now that he has finally lost his permanent scowl and that sour attitude he had when they first met. He certainly hopes he has a part in the change of opinion Baekhyun has for their Earth and its people, although Chanyeol couldn’t be certain he is entirely forgiven just yet.

As they empty their bowls and Chanyeol downs the rest of their bottle of rum, he is without a doubt, pleasantly inebriated. His body warm and eyes on the verge of sleepiness he is battling furiously with. The men near their table are still singing, except their bunch grew larger as more men joined in on the jolly chorus. Baekhyun is still finishing his first cup, but the curse of the inexperienced that a few sips alone and the star’s face is red as a beetroot’s stain, more visibly drunk than Chanyeol is feeling.

So he takes pity on Baekhyun, gently prying the almost empty cup of rum from his hands and hauls him up the flights of stairs into their bedroom. Before they finished supper, Chanyeol gave some shilling to a potboy to have the metal tub filled with warm water and he feels his muscles and bones nearly crumble at the inviting sight of fresh, bathing water before a crackling fire and a pair of clean robes and towels placed neatly on the bed.

He lays Baekhyun upright on the bed and gave him water to drink. “Baekhyun. Has your head cleared yet?”

“No…” groans the star. “I’ve seen your kind get intoxicated many times and it always seemed fun, but why is my head spinning?”

“You just need more time to get used to it,” chuckles Chanyeol, now assisting a struggling star determined to free his feet from the suffocating confines of his boots, or so he mumbles,

With pale feet crossed above the clean covers, Baekhyun leans back on the feather pillows and closes his eyes, though the lines between his eyebrows return, they weren’t so spiteful anymore. 

“I’m not very certain I’m eager to get used to it.”

“Of course you will. I’ll accompany you to the Screeching Toad after you meet Krystal. We will persuade Mr. Luhan to let us drink free of charge. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Chanyeol suggests, but the star doesn’t answer and keeps his eyelids closed; the lines were gone, only the drooped corners of his eyes.

“Baekhyun? Are you asleep?” whispers Chanyeol but Baekhyun doesn’t move and assumes it is so. “Baekhyun, do you want to take a dip in the bath? Or I will if you’re too tired. You can yell if you need anything.” He moves to get ready but adds mid-step. “Not too loudly if we don’t want our floor mates to be angry at us.” He tries to tiptoe but he hears a low snort behind him.

“I’m awake you silly idiot,” His eyes are still shut but his lips are smiling that Chanyeol feels his own lips curve into a sheepish grin. “Although a bath would be nice, yes.” The star sits up and now blinking in the dim light of the room. “But there is only one tub.”

“That is true…” says Chanyeol. “You can take it. It might help clear your head.”

But the star shakes his head. “You can have it. I wasn’t the one that was transformed into a mouse and still probably smells of his own piss and shit.” 

“That’s not true!” Almost, but not quite offended as Chanyeol knows now that Baekhyun is only poking a bit of fun. He sniffs beneath his arms. “It is not of piss and shit!” He’d rather it be of sweat and the essence of rum on his tongue.

“Alright then it’s not if that will make you feel better,” cackles Baekhyun. “Regardless, you may take the bath for yourself. Thank you for offering.”

Chanyeol doesn’t reply, is it the liquor? That makes Baekhyun be as unguarded and comfortable as he was right now, but the atmosphere of the room is different than how it used to be whenever they’re alone. Once again he wonders, is it the liquor? That sets the glow of the fireplace into warm gold or the voice that he once heard faintly in his dreams about honesty.

“Are you sure?” Chanyeol asks. “Surely we have passed the point of politeness here. I know how much you love your baths. Tell me truthfully.” He takes one of the bathing robes and offers it to the star with a sheepish smile. 

“I do, but I’m being kind and truthful. You can have it,” Baekhyun pushes the back towards Chanyeol.

“As truthful as what you said in the caravan?”

Baekhyun snaps his head to look up sharply at Chanyeol; the latter wasn’t sure if the blush that spreads upward of the star’s neck is of anger or embarrassment. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” The star says briskly. 

“I think you know very well what I’m talking about.”

“My head is still spinning. Now go have your bath before I shove your head under the water myself.”

Chanyeol chuckles, finding Baekhyun’s obvious dismissal of the topic amusing and once again endearing. He throws over Baekhyun’s blonde head and the star fusses in being smothered of the thick fabric. “Were you pertaining to me, Baekhyun? About what you said in the caravan.”

“From what I remember, you numbskull, I didn’t even mention your name at all.” Baekhyun defends, having draped the robe about his shoulders now, hair ruffled sweetly and softly.

“Aha! But you do admit that you have said such a thing!” exclaims Chanyeol.

“It wasn’t about you!” Baekhyun says, flinging himself down onto the mattress to conceal his face. Now Chanyeol is fairly certain that is a blush on the star’s ears.

So he sits on the bed once again, rubbing a comforting palm on the star’s broad back, and since his hand wasn’t swatted away, he resumes; kneading the tense muscles and giving whatever solace he could.

“But who else could it be…” whispers Chanyeol, fingers now playing with the soft hairs at Baekhyun’s nape and the star sits up to glower at him. “Certainly not Captain Do.”

“It could very well be Captain Do, you assuming, pigheaded, arrogant piece of little sh—” The star is being loud and Chanyeol has never been as curious to see what those putting, pink lips would taste or how any lips of a pretty person like Baekhyun’s would.

So he does, and Baekhyun almost looks offended when it is over in a blink and he asks. “What did you do that for?”

“I don’t know.” shrugs Chanyeol. “It seemed right and I wanted to.”

“Well, you are lousy at it.” The star comments.

“I can try again…”

“…”

“Unless you hated it then I won’t.” Chanyeol scratches the back of his head, now mortified at his brazenness and how Baekhyun must of think of him. “The bath is probably almost cold now, I should—” but the star covers his mouth with a hand.

“Just like what the hag has said, farm boy. You shut your pie hole.” And the star grabs the lapels of his shirt and kisses Chanyeol’s lower lip. 

They go about it unsurely, moving their heads to and fro, trying to find a rhythm, a balance, as their lips glide together; and Chanyeol has frozen where he is sat and the star’s grip on his shirt so tight he chokes that they pull away, knocking their teeth in the process.

“We’re not very good at this,” says Chanyeol, covering his mouth.

“You just have to let me lead,” says Baekhyun.

“Who said you would lead? Are you experienced?” 

“No, it’s because you’re too daft.” The star snaps.

“Alright.” agrees Chanyeol and Baekhyun blinks, at a loss of the conversation’s direction. “I trust you. You also have to trust me.’ His hands move tentatively around the star’s waist and when the latter raises a brow, he adds. “And I find that I like kissing you.”

Baekhyun breathes a short laugh before pulling on Chanyeol’s arms and they tumble on the bed. They kiss once, twice, thrice; gently still, careful not to knock teeth again, unmindful of how long they stay like that, a twist of arms and legs, a joining of lips in a dance.

In their embrace, as their passion rises, as their daring turns potent their blooming feelings, Chanyeol rolls on top of the star; Baekhyun’s tongue in his mouth, his hand exploring where he can reach; beneath the silk blue shirt and the expanse of his smooth chest. The star is as much of a novice at this as he is; awkward hands and lips, unknowing where to feel and taste. Their bodies moving like the tide, back and forth, with their minds lost in sensation.

The star gasps when Chanyeol presses down, his smooth neck arching as he moans and Chanyeol revels in his ability to reduce the strong-willed Baekhyun into a mess of newfound desire. And he feels no different when Baekhyun’s hands touch lower and lower and he could feel his body about to burst into flame.

When it is over Baekhyun sighs, head falling on Chanyeol’s chest. They never go further, never see where their desire can extend; Chanyeol hesitates that he might hurt Baekhyun and Baekhyun whispers they are ill-equipped, both emotionally and physically. But they have touched that height, they have tasted the fruits of Eden and in their hearts, they yearn.

They do not leave each other’s side as they rest beneath the covers, the bath is forgotten as their minds only fill with one another. Baekhyun smiles on his pillow, lips swollen with kisses, neck bruised and hair more tousled than it was before as his body, heavy with sleep and release, drifts off into sleep.

Chanyeol watches the shadows beneath the star’s lashes that night, laying closer than they ever were when not a moment ago, not a single breath could pass between them. Baekhyun is both sunshine and starlight as his skin glows when he sighs in his dreams and Chanyeol’s heart aches and yearns, but it also has a sadness of a decision he must make when dawn will rise.

~

This is the first morning Baekhyun awoke well-rested from the moment he first fell from the sky. He smiles, the sleepiness has not quite left his eyes, but he feels so warm wrapped up in blankets, body heavy as if still intoxicated from the events of last night. As the star remembers, the tingles were back, his stomach lurching and his chest tight. It had been surprising and new and immensely awkward, to be sharing a moment of intimacy with someone; to give pleasure and to take, to have that much effect on another person, to have the ability to render them into a burning sensation. 

They will have to talk and Baekhyun is not looking forward to that as he stretches his tired limbs, but he is eager to turn and see the rumpled state of his bedmate. Gripping the sheets to conceal his nakedness, Baekhyun rises and is about greet his newfound lover when he discovers that Chanyeol is not there.

“Chanyeol?” He calls, examining the room. Their empty rucksack is still there, along with the towels and the robes they haphazardly threw the previous night, but Chanyeol’s clothes and his rapier are gone.

Baekhyun threw the bedcovers and rushed to get dressed, bounding downstairs if perchance Chanyeol is having his breakfast, but he doesn’t find him among the sleepy guests. He visits the landlady at the front of the inn and harshly rings the bell to distract her from whatever she is reading if she knew of Chanyeol’s whereabouts.

“Oh, he took off quite a bit ago and at such an ungodly hour of the morning too.” The landlady sniffs. “Woke me up from my sleep to leave you a message.”

“What…message?” Baekhyun asks.

“Well, that he’s gone back to see Krystal and fulfill his promise to her.” 

“Oh…” Baekhyun nods. He thinks the landlady is still speaking but he hears nothing after that, the noise of the world has muted and he could only hear the pounding of his heavy heart. He thinks he said his thanks before leaving the inn.

The town of Diggory Dyke’s is pulsing with excitement as the midsummer market begins and the crowds walk merrily to the meadow, taking children and grandchildren, parent and grandparents to see the sights and hear the sounds of the queer folks gathered from all parts of Faerie.

Baekhyun follows the mass of bodies mindlessly and unfeeling of being bumped and shoved, like a leaf carried along in the flow of a stream. He passes the market as if t weren’t there, ignoring the calls of merchants, the wonders and the dreams that could be made true for a single pence. He walks the trail to the forest beyond and he could see the glistening line of the wall beneath the morning sun through the dense trees. He makes way for it, eyeing the gap between the fallen bricks to where Chanyeol had gone.

_Wither thou goest, I must go…_

~

Weeks away from Wall and the people he has lived with all his life could not recognize him. The men who were assigned that morning to guard the gap in the wall prevented him from crossing at the beginning until he sang one of his well-loved songs he would entertain the pub goers at the Screeching Toad way back when. They would wonder and wonder, is it really Chanyeol Park the scrawny shopkeeper and farm boy dressed in bright loose clothes of a vagabond, his hair longer, his shoulders wider and his demeanor confident; no longer stumbling but striding sure steps to Mr. Luhan’s inn, having been told that Krystal was there.

“Chanyeol!” Nothing has changed at all about the pub owner whose face remained as youthful and fair. Mr. Luhan steps away from cleaning the counter and fusses over Chanyeol, taking in his new appearance. He smiles as if proud. “It suits you.”

“Where is Krystal?” Chanyeol asks.

“She is in a private sitting room upstairs. Come, I will show you to her door.”

He follows the pub owner up the finely polished flight of stairs of the Screeching Toad. Mr. Luhan is a meticulous man; though he opens his pub to the rowdiest of patron he assures that the living quarters are well-maintained. They reach one of the doors on the second floor, it is closed and Mr. Luhan leaves him with a grip on his shoulder and that proud smile again. 

“I’m glad you are safe and well, Chanyeol. It’s good to have you back, but you and I both know where you truly belong.” There is a knowing spark in Mr. Luhan’s eyes as went and Chanyeol contemplates his words, the captain’s words, and the little hairy man’s words; as if they’re all related to his future.

He shakes his head, focusing on more dire tasks at hand and he knocks three times.

“Come in,” a familiar voice of sweet bells calls from the inside and Chanyeol tentatively twists the copper knob to enter.

Krystal is sat on an armchair, pretty as a picture just as Chanyeol remembered, her palms folded neatly on her lap. The thin lace curtains let in faint sunlight that caught the deep chestnut of her dark hair. She looks surprised to see him, just as the other townsfolk. Does he look that different when he still feels the same inside? He stands before her and bows deeply like he did when he first left.

“Please, Chanyeol, don’t.” She says uncomfortably. “Have a seat, will you?” And Chanyeol settles on another chair across from her. Krystal nibbles on her lower lip, visibly worried and her eyes sad as she appraises him. “You have become a man in your travels.”

“That is what everyone has been telling me, yet I feel no different,” says Chanyeol. “Perhaps I’m braver now and that I realize I bound you into an unfair deal when you obviously have never felt any affection for me.”

“No, Chanyeol. Not without affection; you are one of my dear friends.” sighs Krystal, gazing out the window. “We grew up together in this town. Each day I lived with the possibility I could’ve sent you to your death.”

Chanyeol says nothing in response. He saw the guilt in her eyes the moment he entered the room. “I had a hand in my departure too, Krystal. I did it for you.”

“And I tell you we were both foolish.” She shakes her head. “I never could’ve imagined you would do it. I’m ashamed to say that I thought you would never have had the courage to keep your word, but you did.”

“I did,” agrees Chanyeol. “I found the star. He is waiting just Beyond the Wall.”

Krystal’s delicate shoulders droop. “I will honor my word for I feel responsible. I agree to marry you.” She looks crestfallen about the thought that her sadness dimmed her beauty, and Chanyeol isn’t so cruel to force someone into a situation they do not want; a lesson he learned not too long ago.

“Krystal, what do you really feel?” he asks. “What do you really want?”

She looks up, her eyes glassy and Krystal folds her palms tightly they went pale. “I feel sorry for I now have to deny Kai his right and that we will never marry, just as we promised each other.”

“Do you love him?” She may have never said it outright, but Chanyeol is sure of what she is trying to imply.

“Yes.”

Chanyeol releases a deep breath and he sits straight, a weight now relieved from his shoulders in the decision he has made. “You never agreed to marry me. You agreed to grant anything I ask for.”

“I did?” Krystal asks, her gentle face frowns in misunderstanding.

He nods, beaming, now free to let others have their happiness despite not liking Kai very much. Chanyeol is still doing this for Krystal and their friendship. “Anything I ask of you.”

“So that means…” 

“Yes, it means I will ask you to marry Kai. Marry him with my blessing and be happy and live well together.” Chanyeol watches the tears of joy that cascade down Krystal’s rosy cheeks and her soft lips. The face he used to love but has learned to let go.

“But the star…” sobs Krystal yet she laughs. “I honestly did want to see one.”

Chanyeol laughs too and hands her the kerchief with Baekhyun’s hair in it. “Stars aren’t what we thought they were. Apparently, they’re loud and rude and very human.” He grins at her dumbfounded expression but she opens the neat fold of the kerchief Krystal gasps and Chanyeol’s throat tightens.

Krystal lets the fine silver dust rain on the floor and with confused eyes, she looks at him. “This is merely stardust.”

But Chanyeol doesn’t hear her as his blood turns cold before he runs hurriedly out the door, he doesn’t hear when Mr. Luhan shouts his name as he leaves the Screeching Toad. He doesn’t hear save for his breathing, letting his long legs take him as fast and as far as he could.

He only hopes Baekhyun hasn’t followed him.

~

Baekhyun hasn’t stepped over the fallen bricks, only stares at the fields and the hill past the gap. His heart pounds as if warning him; he knows Chanyeol is on the other side and he has to follow. Bracing himself, he very nearly takes the determining step but a tight grip on his hand stops him.

He turns and it was the dark-haired woman that had once been a bright blue bird. Her face is pale, violet eyes wide in alarm when she speaks. “If you had taken that one step…you will be transformed into what you would be in that world: a lifeless rock, sky-fallen.”

A shiver of fear makes Baekhyun dizzy of how close he had come to disappearing from existence. He shakes on his feet; his mind a mess, heartsick and scared. The woman catches his shoulders, unusually strong, the chain on her wrist still shimmering.

“Come, we must leave before—” And she screams, dropping to her knees in pain. Baekhyun bends, frantic to console her, and he sees the old hag emerging from the forest, hands raised and the violet-eyed woman convulses in agony.

“Useless slattern!” The hag shrieks. “Twenty years and you have not learned there is no escape. I will always find you, your chains entrap you to me.”

“You stay the fuck away from her you rotten corpse!” Baekhyun has pulled his rapier from the belt around his waist. He knows it is futile to attempt when the hag pulls on the chain as she came close. The woman dragged mercilessly on the ground and he can do nothing but trying to swing with his weapon only for it to never land.

There comes the sound of pounding hooves and they stop in their struggle to watch a black carriage roll down from the road, being pulled by equally black horses. It slows to a halt and its side door opens to let its passenger out. 

Baekhyun’s stomach roils in disgust as an even uglier, more ancient witch stalks from the black carriage. Her hair matted and rotten and only a few strands left to cover a speckled bald head. Her back slumps in her slow shuffle, talons for nails, grey and rotten like her teeth in a sinister smile.

“Ditchwater Sal we have met again since I last cursed you for taking me for a fool,” Her voice grits like bone, the witch in the red dress speaks. Baekhyun is too shocked to move and could only grip the handle of his rapier in both hands.

“What curse? There is no curse. If there had been one I would’ve sensed it!” screeches the hag, hauling her slave forcefully to her feet.

“Ah yes but if you could sense the curse then you would’ve sensed the star is right before your very eyes.” says the red witch.

The hag spits and bares her own rotted teeth. “If you mean my slave girl is the star then you are a fool. If she had been, I would’ve taken her heart and ate it a long time ago.”

The red witch cackles. “Your presence is a bother to me, Ditchwater Sal. It is best if you be silenced.” Her eyes narrow, crusty and pale with age and her hands spark with green magic. “Forever.”

It all happens so swiftly but Baekhyun is knocked to the ground by the violet-eyed woman, smartly avoiding the blast of power flashing so brightly and loudly like a canon they cover their eyes and ears. When they come to, the hag is nothing more than a pile of ashes on the ground and the chain on the violet-eyed woman’s wrist and ankles fade.

“I’m free,” She breathes but the red witch hears her.

“Not for long, my darlings.” The red witch says, and a new chain appears; this time binding her and Baekhyun’s wrists together. “I have business with our pretty blonde friend and his heart.”

The woman steps forward. “He is not going anywhere.”

“Your faint magic doesn’t faze me, dear princess.” says the red witch. “I suggest you cooperate or you will follow the fate of your mistress and the star will be killed sooner than later.” She eyes the rapier still in Baekhyun’s hand. “And a valiant heart that burns to survive will serve me better.” 

A wave with her hand and both of their legs move on their own accord. Baekhyun and the woman flail in the unnaturalness of the sensation as their limbs take them inside the carriage with the witch.

Baekhyun looks back into the gap of the wall and spots the peeking heads of two human men. They must’ve seen and heard everything that had transpired. He closes his eyes and hopes with all the strength in his heart that Chanyeol will have the mind and cunning to be able to track them.

~

Chanyeol skids down the hill in his haste, following the trail to the gap of the wall that he had once taken many moons ago. He sees the two guards running up toward him as well and he prepares for a scuffle to be able to cross once more except they meet halfway on the path so they can catch their breaths. 

“What happened?” Chanyeol asks as he looks at the state of them shaking in fear as they both speak at once.

“A powerful red witch--!”

“Took the blonde boy with her--!”

“Says she will eat his heart!”

“We will never guard the wall ever again!”

The two guards run back to Wall and Chanyeol rushes to cross the unguarded gap. He instantly sees the scorched patch of grass and the pile of ashes. There is a trail of horse hoof prints and the wheels of a carriage heading north. He searches for more clues on the ground and in the pile of ash he finds the glass snowdrop, unburnt and as new as the day it was crafted. 

“No,” he whispers and runs to the trail that goes through the forest and into the meadow where the festivities of the night market has begun. There were people everywhere and he searches frantically for the brightly painted caravan. 

He searches for what seems like hours and his frustration grows as he feels the star moving farther and farther from him. The faces of the crowd muddle in his head and he almost collapses in exhaustion by the food stall of a tall man in a top hat who went out of his way serving his customers to hold Chanyeol upright.

“Careful there young one. We didn’t keep you alive all this time for you to faint at the crucial moment. Here,” the tall man gives him a cup of something warm and Chanyeol weakly sips from the rim. “Elvish wine is said to have magical qualities. After all, every race has lent their assistance to aid your success.”

Chanyeol’s vision clears and he feels renewed strength and energy in his blood, in his bones and in the new muscles that begin to cord his arms. His focus settles on the kindly and smiling face of the tall man who gives him a nod of greeting.

“I give you my thanks,” Chanyeol says. “But I couldn’t stay for long. Someone dear to me needs my help.”

“I understand,” the tall man returns to his stall. “If there is anything you might require, do not hesitate to ask.”

Chanyeol bows and has stridden a few yards away before he turns back to the food stall of the tall man in a top hat. “A horse then, perhaps? One that rides fast and untiringly for miles.”

The tall man brightly beams as if the opportunity to assist Chanyeol greatly honors him and unbeknownst to Chanyeol himself, it does. 

“Something even better. Just as I said when all races lent their hands, even the rarest and most magical ones.”

“What do you mean?” asks Chanyeol.

“There is a glade in these woods behind my stall. Find it, for he is waiting for you there.” The tall man says. “Hurry now, young lord. Time is a’wasting.”

Chanyeol nods and runs through bushes and brambles, foot trampling on twigs and fallen leaves. He knows where the glade is, the tall man only had to mention its name. And there stood magnificently under that canopy of light between the branches of the trees, is a creature that is said to be so discreet that it only appears before those it deems worthy and he recognizes it for it has helped him and the star before.

He approaches the beast carefully, in awe to be in the presence of something so pure. “Baekhyun has said that unicorns are the Moon’s creatures.” Chanyeol strokes the fine strands of its mane and the unicorn lowers its legs and Chanyeol climbs on its mighty back. “Take me to him.”

The unicorn huffs, its horn gleaming gloriously in the golden afternoon light before rising on its hind legs and took off in a powerful gallop. Faster than any horse, than any carriage; covering great distances in a brief amount of time, body gleaming with light when darkness descends on them as they pass fields, meadows, forests, and villages before they reach a lifeless wasteland. 

The Moon is how high in the heavens, an imposing orb in the sky as if it watches over them. Deep in the Barrens, the place is called; Chanyeol knows it in his very being, where nothing living grows or draws breath, in a cavernous chasm is a castle of black volcanic rock and high obsidian pillars, a daunting and unwelcome feeling in the mist that surrounds it.

“He is close,” exhales Chanyeol, both relieved and gripped in the clutches of fright. No one is welcome here, especially not him and the unicorn uneasily stomping its hooves on the dusty ground. “Will you help me? I promise it will be the last time since I am unsure if I will survive.”

The unicorn whinnies, almost as if it agrees and approaches the great black doors of the castle, surely sealed with magic from the inside, but the unicorn merely touches the surface with the tip of his horn and the doors groan open.

~  
Baekhyun has been staring at the domed roof above him, where he is laid and strapped on a stone table, resigned now of his fate. The witch has taken them into a massive hall filled with mirrors on the walls, but one great mirror stands near the stone table. It was dark despite the numerous candles scattered about as if they couldn’t illuminate the darkness within the castle.

They had made one last effort for their freedom and survival. The witch is alone in her palace and they had kicked and pulled on the chain, but the violet-eyed woman has long been faint from the magic that hit her head and Baekhyun is helpless against dark magic that once more made him willingly climb the table where he is to be slain.

He turns his head to watch the red witch sharpen her great knife on a spinning stone wheel. Belatedly realizes that he is captured by the same vile creature for the second time since the burning inn and now no one will come to help him. Not Chanyeol who has forgotten him and left him to return to his one true love.

The star supposes it is better this way, to be gone from this cruel Earth where his heart is of no use to him, not when it has only brought him pain, suffering, and heartbreak. He whispers a farewell and apology to his mother the Moon and his endless brothers and sisters that cover the sky when they entered the castle doors. He had gazed at their faces one last time, he had seen they were weeping for him and he is helpless to ease their grief for their beloved and most beautiful Evening Star, the brightest in the sky.

The red witch is now stalking slowly up to the stone table, her bone knife raised high, ready to strike at his chest. Baekhyun wishes for it to be swift, that he is long dead before he could feel the pain.

But a crash of the doors to the hall that startles them both and Baekhyun’s eyes widen at the sight of Chanyeol astride the white unicorn, eyes blazing and so handsome when he leaps from the beast clutching the copper canister that was a gift from the crew of the Perdita.

“Don’t you dare!” Chanyeol yells and twists the cover of the canister to release the bolt of lightning they had caught at the witch who is sent crashing into a great mirror with a loud crack of bones breaking and fragments of glass flying. 

Chanyeol hurries to the table and Baekhyun looks at his face with his heart soaring that he barely feels his binds being cut loose. 

“You came,” he whispers as Chanyeol helps him down and they look into each other’s eyes as understanding passes between them.

“Of course,” Chanyeol takes the star’s hand and quickly makes for the doors. “I will never leave you. Not today nor tomorrow nor forever.”

“Chanyeol, I—,” Baekhyun never finishes for one by one the chandeliers above them begin to fall down. 

They duck and run for their lives and they hear the cackle of the witch makes even as she lay broken on the floor; her hands move, her magic still all-powerful that she rises slowly, bent and more deformed, her body bleeding as she takes her fallen knife.

_“I will slaughter you first before you can escape!” She bellows._

The mirrors surrounding the room break into a million sharp fragments and fly towards them. Chanyeol and Baekhyun huddle on the ground, screaming as shards rip at their exposed skin and tear at their clothes. 

“I did not kill my sisters to have your heart all for myself so you can get away!” The witch screams, now shuffling slowly towards them. “I, Lamia the Witch-Queen will gain my youth back for another thousand years.”

“The canister, Chanyeol!” hisses Baekhyun and Chanyeol obeys, twisting the copper lid, but no lightning comes forth. They look around and the unicorn has left them.

The witch cackles. “You have nothing at your disposal and no one to help you. Your measly swords are useless against my magic! So surrender, dear children, for it is over.”

Chanyeol faces Baekhyun, blood flowing from his torn scalp and he knows he looks a similar state. The star, so breathtaking is his blue eyes that Chanyeol thinks death is not so bad if he is lost looking into them. 

“I’m so sorry, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says. “I failed to save us.”

“Chanyeol?” the star places a warm palm on Chanyeol’s cut cheek and straightforwardly asks. “Do you love me?

Any other time and Chanyeol would have choked, flustered at the unexpected question, but he supposes he has known for a long time. Since he has found the star since they were stranded on a cloud since they laughed under the rain on the Perdita since they first kissed just the previous night. When he left Wall he was merely a boy blinded on love; now he is a man and with it, his heart had changed and chose with sure conviction.

He touches Baekhyun’s forehead with his own and says. “By the Moon and the stars, I do. Yes. I am. I—I…” but he is silenced when soft lips kiss his own.

The witch is almost upon them and Baekhyun says. “Hold me and shut your eyes tight.”

Chanyeol does so, caging Baekhyun within the confines of his long arms. “Why?”

“A saying goes that stars twinkle when they are happy,” answers Baekhyun, tightening his own hold on Chanyeol, stroking his hair. “What do you think stars do when they’re in love?”

He has no reply, ready for death in Baekhyun’s embrace. This is their fate and he accepts it. Chanyeol closes his eyes and waits while Baekhyun whispers the answer in his ear.

“We shine,” the star says and Chanyeol feels Baekhyun’s skin grow warm but not painful to his touch. Something very bright penetrates the darkness created by his closed eyelids and he feels the ground shake and the witch screaming in excruciating pain. By feel, he finds Baekhyun’s lips and kisses him deeply. There comes a powerful wave of power and to Chanyeol, there is no better way to die.

But they never die, for Chanyeol has kept kissing Baekhyun for what seem like ages that he feels his lips start to swell. The star nibbles on his chin and chuckles low in his throat.

“You can open them now, you fool.” 

So Chanyeol opens one eye first, unsure but when he sees the burnt pieces of the witch’s remains he grabs Baekhyun’s shoulders. “Why couldn’t you have done that earlier?”

“Ow! Stop it!” Baekhyun swats Chanyeol’s hands away and brushes down his shirt as if to sort himself, despite his torn clothes and bloodied face. “I couldn’t because I was emotionally distressed.”

“Distressed how? We could’ve killed the witch much sooner!” says Chanyeol.

“Well, try being tied to a table to be slaughtered and be—” he murmurs the last bit of the sentence then huffs and stomps to the door with his head raised.

“Be what?” Chanyeol chases after him but the star is quite fast on his feet, especially when he is upset. “Baekhyun!”

“I was heartbroken, you ignorant, selfish worm! How did you fucking think I felt when I woke to an empty bed? Huh?!” Baekhyun snaps, still walking at a determined pace. 

They reach the main foyer where the star had first made his struggle to escape. The unicorn is there, resting unbothered on the lustrous black marble floor. Leaning against it was the violet-eyed woman, the spell that put her to sleep has broken and she is awake.

Baekhyun rushes to her side to take her hand. “You are alright!”

“Yes,” laughs the woman like a tinkling stream. “And you are hurt! Where is the witch?”

“Dead,” answers Chanyeol and the woman stares at him with wide eyes. 

“So it is indeed over,” says the woman and she and Baekhyun stand on their feet. The unicorn too rises, looming tall above their heads. It nudges its huge head against the star’s arm.

“Not for me it isn’t,” Baekhyun says and pulls at the stone hung on a chain around his neck. He places the pale topaz pendant on his open palm. “I still have to give this to the right person.”

The woman steps to the star and touches the pendant of then which she turns to Chanyeol and says. “Ask him for the stone, Chanyeol Park.”

They both stare at the woman as if she’d gone mad but her eyes were firm and serious that Chanyeol wonders. “How do you know my name when I haven’t introduced myself?”

“Because I’m the one who named you,” she says. “As I am your mother.”

Baekhyun gasps and Chanyeol speechless, seeing the woman for the first time under a new perspective. She could be fibbing, but her gaze is unwavering and Chanyeol is unsure. Such a cruel thing to lie about when he has never met his mother his whole life.

“She speaks truthfully, Chanyeol.” The star says. “You are the rightful owner of this pendant.”

“How do you know?”

I just know. The same way you know where places are. I just feel it.”

The woman shakes her head. “I am the Lady Hana. The only daughter and first-born of the last living Lord of Stormhold, a fortress kingdom on Mount Huon, the highest peak in all of Faerie.” Hana trains her violet eyes on Chanyeol. “All of my nine brothers are dead and you, my son, are the last male heir.”

“Take it, Chanyeol. So I can be done with it,” groans Baekhyun and Chanyeol picks up the stone and to his amazement, the stone turns red and the topaz became a ruby.

“You are of the blood of Stormhold. No one will doubt it.” Hana says. “And you will rule Stormhold on your grandfather’s throne. It is your destiny.”

Chanyeol stares at the ruby on his palm and somehow his whole life changes in an instant at such a minuscule act. He had such simple dreams too; to see the world beyond Wall and he has achieved that but now he is Lord of a kingdom he has never seen and closes his fingers on the pendant.

“But I am not ready to be lord of anything mother,” he says. “I mean no disrespect by disobeying you. Surely, I am glad to finally meet you and there is so much I want to say and I would want nothing more than for you and father to be proud of me.” He wears the pendant on his neck. “But I would like to become Lord at my own speed. There is still so much to see of Faerie and I wish to be free and have my adventures before I settle for good.”

Hana sighs and reaches over to take her son’s hands. There is resemblance if one looks closely; the ears and the smile, he takes from his mother. “You will return to fulfill your duty?”

“Yes, mother,” Chanyeol says.

“Then I will rule as regent until you are ready,” Hana lovingly strokes Chanyeol’s chin, the baby she had parted with so long ago, that she held briefly in her arms. He is now a man, for certain.

~  
Hana leaves them in the Town of Revelry and rides for Stormhold on the unicorn. Chanyeol and Baekhyun stroll the cobbled streets of the town where everywhere it seems there is much merriment and celebration. They hold hands and unhurriedly watch the peoples sing and dance, the air pregnant with laughter.

“Where do we go now?” asks Chanyeol.

“Anywhere,” answers the star. “Everywhere.”

“We won’t go far on foot and mother has taken the unicorn.”

Baekhyun mulls it over, pouting his sweet pink lips that Chanyeol resists the urge to kiss him in public. “That shorty captain did say we will meet again, didn’t he?”

They share a grin and the plan has been set. First, they have to wait for the next lightning storm.

~fin~


End file.
